


Cut Off

by InkFlavored



Series: Happy Hour [1]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Atem is a bartender, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Future chapters will add characters and drama, M/M, Pining, Smoking, Yugi is getting over a breakup, also tragic backstories, it doesn't play a part in the actual story, smoking is mentioned later on, there's a single fade to black at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2019-10-14 07:24:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 78,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17504180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkFlavored/pseuds/InkFlavored
Summary: Few people choose a day during the week to drink away their problems at a bar downtown. Most people wait until the weekend, content to simmer with their issues until Friday. Others do it at home with friends, and without worrying about how they're supposed to get home in time for work in the morning. All in all, it's rare that someone walks into a bar on a weeknight at ten-thirty to start drinking.But that's exactly what happened to Atem.





	1. On a Tuesday?

**Author's Note:**

> it took me a lot to work up the courage to post this, mostly because i couldn't decide when "done" meant "done." enjoy!

Atem, proud owner of the Pharaoh’s Throne, was wiping down the counter. An hour and a half into his self-imposed shift, and there were only six customers in the building, spread out among the tables and booths, music filtered in through tinny speakers. The counter didn't even need cleaning – it was just something to do with his hands. And he'd be doing it until two in the morning. He checked his watch: it was only ten thirty. He groaned internally.

It’s not that he didn’t like working at his own bar, and it’s not like he couldn’t just give one of his employees the nine-to-two shift. But working at a bar on a slow night wasn’t something he’d wish on his worst enemy. The whole point of working at a bar was the excitement, the people, the life of the party, so to speak. A slow shift at a bar was a slow night in boredom hell. Atem imposed the Tuesday night shift upon himself to save his poor employees the grief.

 He scanned the room and his six patrons. The three people at the bar were quietly nursing drinks, one person was asleep at a booth, and two people in the back had just slapped down cash and stood up to walk out. Make that _four_ patrons.

Atem tossed his cleaning rag over his shoulder, and came around the bar to collect the payment from the two people exiting. He nodded to them both as he passed.

“Have a good night,” Atem said. He barely got a second glance, but shrugged it off. People drinking on weeknights probably weren’t up for small talk.

Atem swiped the money off the tables, stacking the empty glasses on top of each other. The ice had long since melted in all of them, and there were several circular puddles to prove it. The bartender swiped them dry with his rag, balancing the stacked glasses in one hand.

He made his way back to the counter, stopping to nudge the sleeping patron on his way back – a man curled around an empty pint glass.

“Excuse me?” Atem asked, leaning over. “Sir?” The man didn’t move.

The bartender sighed. If he wasn’t awake by closing time, Atem would have no choice but to wake him up. And since he was going to be at the bar all night anyway, might as well just let the poor guy sleep. Wouldn’t have been the first time.

Atem stepped behind the counter again, filing away the bills and placing the dirty glasses in a bin of similarly unwashed glasses. If the night got any slower, he’d just do them now. He probably wouldn’t miss anything too exciting aside from a change in the music.

The door was yanked open so violently Atem jumped. A wild haired man in rumpled clothes stalked in with the chilly mid-autumn wind, sliding into the first seat at the bar and hunching over like he was trying to hide from someone. Looks like he wouldn’t be having as slow of a night after all.

Atem approached the stranger with a sympathetic smile. “Rough night?” he asked, already pulling out a lowball glass. You only had to be a bartender for so long to predict when someone needed a particularly stiff drink.

The man let out a bark of laughter. “You could say that. Whiskey on the rocks, please. Whatever you’ve got is fine.” He rubbed his eyes and sighed.

“Coming right up,” Atem said, turning around to fix the drink. He picked out the strongest stuff, for the customer’s sake.

Atem couldn’t help but notice how alike the two of them looked. Sure, Atem’s Egyptian nationality probably made a few of their differences more noticeable – skin was an obvious factor, Atem’s brown and the stranger’s pale – but what similarities they had were unmistakable. The shape of their faces, for one, their jaws curving at all the same angles, and their cheekbones sat in exactly the same place. It was like looking at a Japanese version of himself.

Additionally, Atem never thought he’d meet someone with crazier hair than him, dark maroon with blonde fringe not being a common style it turned out. But the stranger seemed to be _one-upping_ him, with blonde bangs with dark hair and purple ends. Both of their styles stuck out all over the place, but in Atem’s case, it was because he couldn’t get his hair to behave itself. Maybe the stranger was the same way.

Atem turned around with the completed drink, filled a little more than he’d usually pour. It was a slow night, and this guy’s night wasn’t looking to be getting any better. In fact, from the look on his doppelganger’s face, it was only getting worse.

“One whiskey on the rocks,” Atem announced, throwing down a napkin to sit the drink on.

“Thanks,” the stranger said, relived. He brought the glass to his lips before putting down and looking at Atem a little sheepishly. “I’m going to open a tab,” he added.

“No problem,” said Atem as the stranger slid over a credit card. Atem slipped the card by the register, where it sat alone. Well, at least he wouldn’t forget who it belonged to.

Atem returned to wiping down his bar, collecting payment as it was set down on the counter. _Three_ customers now, including the new addition, who was sticking his nose down the lowball glass. Atem felt for him – not very many people go diving into the bottom of a bottle on a _Tuesday_.

The stranger’s first glass was finished before the ice had even melted. Atem was back over to refill it before he could even ask, rag hastily thrown over his shoulder.

“Like the selection?” Atem asked as he took the glass.

The stranger nodded. “Yeah, it was good.”

“Should I get you another one?”

“Please,” he said. “It’s going to be a _long_ night.”

Atem faced the stranger as he made the drink this time. “Work giving you a hard time?”

“I wish,” replied the stranger. “It’s my former-anniversary. As of two weeks ago.”

“Tough split?” Atem placed the refilled glass back on the counter.

“You could say that. He cheated on me.”

“Ouch.”

The stranger accepted the drink gratefully and gave Atem a look. “With my ex-girlfriend,” he added.

Atem hissed through his teeth sympathetically. “Double ouch.” He produced a pair of shot glasses from underneath the counter and topped them off with the closest vodka bottle on hand. “Here—” He slid them across the bar to the stranger. “On the house.”

The stranger’s purple eyes – _Purple eyes_? Atem wondered – widened at the tiny glasses in surprise. “Oh, no, I can’t…”

Atem just slid them a little closer. “I insist. To erase memory of your shitty ex-boyfriend.”

“Well,” the stranger said, his lips turned up slightly in a tiny smile, “if it’s for a good cause.”

Atem retuned the smile with a grin of his own. “It’s nothing I wouldn’t do for anyone else.”

The stranger picked up one of the shots and gently slid the other one across the bar to Atem. “Share?”

The bartender took the shot and shrugged. “It’s for a good cause, isn’t it?”

The stranger and Atem clinked their shots together. “To forgetting shitty exes,” the stranger declared.

“Here, here!” Atem agreed.

They knocked back their shots together, and set them down at the same time. Atem whisked the shot glasses away to sit with the dirty glasses, and prepared to start waiting out his _extremely_ long night again.

“I’m Yugi, by the way,” said the stranger.

The bartender leaned on the back counter, plucking the towel from his shoulder again. “Atem. Thanks for the drink.”

“I should be thanking _you_ ,” Yugi insisted.

Atem made a dismissive gesture. “Don’t worry about it, seriously. You looked like you needed it.”

“You have no idea,” Yugi sighed. He took a long draught from his refilled glass – easily half the drink in one go.

“I’m always here for my loyal customers.”

“Actually, I’ve never been here before.”

Atem put a hand on his chest and staggered dramatically. “Ouch, Yugi. That hurts.”

“Sorry,” Yugi laughed, a little sheepishly. “I live on the other side of town.”

“Well in that case, welcome to the Pharaoh’s Throne, proudly owned by yours truly.”

“I guess that makes you the Pharaoh, right?”

Atem forced out a dry laugh. “It sure does.”

Yugi rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, apparently having caught on to Atem’s not-too-subtle boredom with that particular joke. “How many times have you heard that one?”

“More times than I can count, that’s for sure.” The bartender returned to cleaning his workspace, thinking their conversation would end there – it usually did. Sometimes with an “enjoy your drink,” or an awkward laugh. He didn’t think about it, usually, but this time he was almost a little upset about ending a conversation with Yugi. It was rare he had a customer that was willing to talk to him on a weeknight shift.

Atem took a glance around the bar as he weighed the odds of continuing the conversation. Everyone was nursing a drink, and had no indication that they were leaving anytime soon. It was going to be a slow shift. It’s not like this night would be getting any quicker _without_ a conversation. Might as well, right?

“If you don’t mind,” Atem began, leaning his hip on the front counter, “I have a question for you that people probably ask you all the time as well.”

Yugi, with the edge of the glass pressed to his lips, took a few seconds to register Atem was talking to _him_. “Mm-sure,” he mumbled, quickly swallowing with a hand covering his mouth. “Go for it.”

“Purple eyes?” Atem asked.

Yugi rolled his head along with his eyes, and Atem knew he’d hit the jackpot. “Oh boy, the purple eyes question, a classic. I’ve got it rehearsed: my eyes aren’t _actually_ purple, they’re a very dark blue, that only _looks_ purple in certain light.”

Atem leaned his chin on his hand, trying to channel every customer that ever asked him a question, but somehow more exaggerated. “That’s so _cool_.”

“You’ve got the fascinated stranger act down, for sure,” Yugi laughed, lifting the glass to drink again.

“I’ve picked up a few acting skills on the job,” Atem joked, an easy smile growing on his face.

Yugi swallowed and held up a finger. “Another predictable question, if you don’t mind?”

“Ask away.”

“Are you from Egypt?”

“Ooh, that _is_ predictable,” Atem praised. “And yes, I am. What gave it away? The pharaoh references? My excellent interior design?” He swung an arm around the room, indicating the upside-down-pyramid-shaped hanging lamps, the fact that his name was written in hieroglyphics as well as in Japanese, the extensive use of the Eye of Horus on just about everything. Atem was nothing if not consistent. Plus, people liked exotic stereotypes.

Yugi smiled, swirling his whiskey, the ice clinking against the glass. “Lucky guess. Why’d you move to Japan?”

Atem’s smile fell, and he glanced away. He twisted his cleaning rag in his hands. He was used to the question, but that never made it easier. “Family troubles.”

Yugi nodded, smiling apologetically. “Ah. Sorry.”

“It’s alright. People ask all the time.”

“Doesn’t mean they should.”

Atem stopped. He didn’t really have an answer for that one.

The pair were silent for a while, and Atem kicked himself for ruining a perfectly good conversation with his broodiness.

He glanced around the bar. A couple of people were standing up to leave. The sleeping man was still sleeping. Down to two customers now. He took the resounding awkward silence as an opportunity to do his job, collecting the payment and empty glasses from their recently vacated seats.

When he got back, Yugi was looking down at his hands, and a pang of guilt shot through Atem. He didn’t meant to hurt the poor guy’s feelings – he was already having a pretty shit night. Just when he thought they were getting along, too. He stepped over to Yugi’s stool, mouth open with an apology, but it stuck in his throat when he saw what Yugi was _actually_ looking at.

Deft, pale fingers tinkered with a series of golden metal bands. A thin silver chain – for a necklace, maybe – sat coiled next to Yugi’s glass of whiskey, like it was gently and deliberately placed. Yugi was intently focused on the golden bands, so much so that he didn’t notice the bartender’s return.

“What’s that?” Atem asked, instead of offering his apology, curiosity overtaking him in the moment.

Yugi started, glancing up with an embarrassed smile. “Oh, uh— it’s a puzzle ring.”

“I love puzzles,” Atem said, plopping his elbows down on the bar to level with Yugi. “Any kind of game, really.”

Yugi brightened instantly with an infectious smile that Atem couldn’t help but mimic. It was the smile of one fellow puzzle-solver to another. The excitement of a challenger, or, in this case, someone to show off to.

“My grandfather got me this when I was in high school,” Yugi said, holding up the puzzle ring. “I finished it ages ago, but I keep it with me because I like re-solving it.”

He demonstrated his point by quickly folding the hoops and interlocking them so they laid flat across each other, into a single braided, golden ring. He twirled it around, and then shook it out to reveal the separate pieces again.

Atem nodded. There were puzzles he liked to take out and recomplete, just for the sake of it. Even if he could finish it blindfolded, backward, with one arm behind his back, just the act of solving it relaxed him in a way he couldn’t explain. It was like comfort food.

“It’s a pretty ring,” he said. “Where did your grandfather get it?”

“Egypt, actually.”

“Really?”

“Yep! He was there on a dig site – he’s an archeologist – and he bought this for me while he was in Cairo.”

Atem blinked at the mention of Egypt’s capital. “You’re not going to believe this, but _I’m_ from Cairo.”

“You’re kidding!” Yugi said with a surprised laugh. “Maybe you met him while he was there. It would have been—”

 “No,” Atem interrupted, trying not to grimace, “I probably didn’t. I left when I was pretty young.”

“Oh,” Yugi said slowly. He held up the disassembled ring. “You want to try?”

“Sure,” Atem agreed, grateful for the change of subject, and held out his hard for the ring. Yugi dropped the series of interlocked gold bands into his hand, jangling like keys.

“Don’t be upset if you can’t solve it on the first try,” Yugi reassured him, in a tone that was _just_ bordering on smug. “It took _me_ at least a week, and I was a pretty good solver in high school.” Oh, he was _definitely_ being smug.

Atem eyed his newest customer, an equally smug look on his face. “We’ll just have to see about that, won’t we?” Yugi shrugged innocently and returned to his drink.

The bartender looked down at the puzzle in his hand. The ring consisted of seven golden hoops, thin, thick, curved, flat, sometimes a combination. He tried hooking two of them up, but they didn’t fit together. He tried laying them against each other. Nothing. He frowned. He tried a different pair of hoops, a mirrored pair that _seemed_ like they should fit together, but again, nothing.

“Need a hint?” Yugi asked.

“Not a chance,” Atem muttered, not even bothering to look up. Yugi had completed the puzzle too fast for him to catch any kind of detail or secret that could help him. So he had to figure it out by himself.

He flipped over the two mirrored bands – he knew those two would have to be important. Maybe. The ring looked braided when it was finished, so maybe the rings _didn’t_ fit on top of each other, but _inside_ each other. Somehow.

As he turned the golden bands over and over, he noticed another pair. They were thin most of the way around, except for a thick curve near the base, where all the bands connected. When he tried to fit them together as a mirror, they wouldn’t sit right, but when he turned one of them around, they fit snugly together. Except, however, for a small hole that all the rest of the dangling rings hung inside. _A puzzle indeed_ , he thought. _Wait…_

The other five hoops, when left to dangle from the isolated two, had the curves in their metal lined up. None of the curves were exactly like each other, so that mirrored pair from earlier had been a mistake. But none of the curves were bigger than the opening made by the two main hoops. Experimentally, he twisted one of the smaller-curved rings through the opening and—

“Ah-ha!” he announced.

“What?” Yugi asked, leaning forward to watch his progress.

Atem looked up at him, with the cheekiest grin he’d worn in years. “I figured it out.”

He slid the remaining rings in through the small opening. It took some trial and error to find out the exact position for all of them, but now he knew the secret. Soon enough, Atem was bouncing a braided golden ring in his palm, all seven hoops aligned, and puzzle solved.

“Nice job,” Yugi congratulated, catching the ring as Atem tossed it toward him. “You figured it out fast.” He strung the completed ring back on the silver chain, and hooked it around his neck.

“Call it a gift,” Atem replied, then pointed at the near-empty glass sitting on the counter. “Refill?”

“I – what time is it?”

Atem glanced at his watch. “It’s eleven-twentyish.”

Yugi deflated in his seat. “Probably not then.”

Atem tried not to be too disappointed, collecting the glass. “Work in the morning?”

“No, thankfully. But I just…I’d hate to keep you from working, especially this late. Talking with you has been fun and all but—”

Atem cut him off with a laugh. “Hey, I’m here until two. And if you hadn’t noticed, this place isn’t exactly the hottest spot in town.” He gestured toward the other of the two remaining customers. He was still sleeping. Snoring, too. “I’m a bored king. This is the liveliest the palace will be all night.”

Yugi smiled a little at the – admittedly, not very clever – joke, but still looked a little conflicted. Atem swallowed a compliment about how much better Yugi had made his night for the sake of professionalism. And not sounding like a creep. He _definitely_ didn’t want to sound like a creep and ruin whatever puzzle-solver-pact they had.

“You don’t have to stay,” he clarified, “but you don’t have to leave for my sake.”

Yugi tapped the bar with the tips of his fingers, and Atem tried very hard not to look like he was waiting for a response, or an excuse to start talking again. It had been so long since he’d met anyone with a similar interest in puzzles, games, _anything_.

 _God, I need friends_ , he lamented, turning around to place the empty glass in his hand with the others.

“Actually.”

Atem tried not to look too excited when he turned around. “Actually?”

Yugi smiled. “What’s one more drink?”

 

 

He had more than one more drink.

It was one in the morning and Atem regretted not cutting Yugi off fifteen minutes ago. They had kept talking, about whatever topics crossed their minds, but somehow the topic of Yugi’s ex-boyfriend came up. The reason he was sitting at the Pharaoh’s Throne in the first place. It hadn’t been much at first, just slurred insults and Atem agreed that yes, he was an asshole, and yes, he’d get what was coming to him…but then he kept going.

And going.

“I just…don’t even know what ‘m _doing_ anymore,” Yugi mumbled, face down on the counter, yet another drink in his hand. “He fuckin’ _destroyed_ me, y’know?”

 _I think that whiskey destroyed you first_ , Atem thought, eying the glass warily. “Nah, you’ll be fine. Break-ups suck, but it’s never the end of the world.”

“ _Feels_ like th’ end of the world...”

Atem rested his arms on the counter, nudging Yugi’s head with his elbow. “Think about it this way: would you rather have stayed with him, knowing what you know now?”

“Psh. No.”

“Well, there it is. It sucks now, but you made the _right_ choice when you left him.”

Yugi picked up his head abruptly, propping himself up with a hand to his cheek. “You’re always right, y’know that?”

“You’ve only known me for two hours.”

“Yeah…but you’re _always_ right.”

Atem shook his head good naturedly, and watched as Yugi drained the rest of his glass. He whined like a dog when it found it empty.

“Can I uh,” he slurred, putting the glass down and sliding it across the counter, “get uh. ‘Nother one?”

Taking the glass hesitantly, Atem shook his head. “I think you’ve had enough.”

“What? C’mon!” Yugi sat up sharply. Well, he _tried_ to sit up sharply, but ended up plopping back down onto the counter. His eyes were glazed over, and his cheeks were flushed red. Yeah, it was _definitely_ time to cut him off.

“Sorry,” Atem said, writing up Yugi’s tab. “You’ll thank me in the morning, promise.”

“You’re no fun,” was the blistering response.

Atem had noted way earlier in his business, and often quoted himself on the fact, that all drunk people act like children in some way. Yugi was no exception. He stuck out his bottom lip and pouted, his head propped up on both fists. Atem slid him a glass of water – which Yugi reluctantly drained – and the tab for him to sign.

“Did you drive?” Atem asked, as his customer signed the tab with a sloppy smiley face. Good enough. He slid back Yugi’s card, and watched him fumble it away.

“Mmmmaybe.”

“Right. Calling a cab.”

Yugi kicked his feet against the counter like a kid waiting for the bus as Atem made the call, and pulled his knees up to his chin when he was politely asked to stop. He spent the rest of his time waiting, humming a song so out of key Atem couldn’t have guessed the name of it if you paid him.

“Your ride should be here in a few minutes,” he announced, and checked his watch. It was only one-fifteen. The dreaded forty-five minutes alone – even the sleeping guy had gotten up and left – stretched away in front of him.

“You’re real nice.”

Atem looked up from his wrist to find Yugi staring at him like a lovesick puppy, big eyes and dopey smile, cheek squished on his knee. The dim lighting gave his ridiculous hair a halo of fuzzy gold. Something in Atem’s brain shut down and restarted.

“What?” he asked, and the part of his brain with the voice of his second-oldest cousin knocked him upside the head. _Maybe a “thank you,” would have been better_ , she scolded.

But Yugi didn’t seem to notice his lapse in functionality. “You’re nice,” he repeated. “And really cool.”

“Uh—thanks?”

“You’re welcome!”

Atem blinked, hard, wondering if it was something in his eyes that was making his newest customer glow…like that. Yugi blinked back, smiling like it was a game. Nope, still glowing. It wasn’t his eyes, but it was definitely something. There’s no way anyone could look _that_ b—

A car honked outside – the cab was here. Atem smiled awkwardly, inching from around the counter and toward the door.

“Your ride is here,” he said, gesturing outside.

Yugi nodded eagerly and hopped down from his stool. He pitched forward on his first step, and Atem raced around to help him stand. He wrapped an arm around Yugi’s middle and his drunk customer threw an arm around his shoulders.

“Whoops!” Yugi giggled. “It’s slippery in here.”

“Nope,” Atem replied, leading him to the entrance. “I think that’s just you.”

Yugi laughed like that was the funniest joke he’d heard in a hundred years, and Atem couldn’t help but join him as they waddled out the door of the Pharaoh’s Throne.

Atem opened the door for Yugi, who ungracefully stumbled in and slurred his address to the driver. The bartender stepped back from the car door, and shut it. The window rolled down and Yugi stuck his arm out and waved.

“Thank you!” he sang.

“No problem,” Atem said, waving in return.

The cab sped away, and he watched it go, lowering his arm slowly as it disappeared down the street. A poking sensation at the back of his mind, something he’d been trying to ignore for the sake of politeness, wormed its way to the front of his thoughts.

 _I hope I see him again_.

He shook his head and scoffed as he turned back to his bar. Yugi lived on the other side of town, he said so himself. He’d come back for his car in the morning, and Atem would never see him again. Like he’d actually go out of his way to come back to a place he went after trying to get over a shitty ex. Might as well get over it. And get over whatever weird things he was feeling.

Atem checked his watch: one-twenty-six. It was close enough to two to close up. He pushed open the door and flipped the sign from open to closed – an Eye of Horus with the word “open” under it to a _closed_ Eye of Horus, with the word “closed” under it.

He closed the door and stepped back into the Pharaoh’s Throne, now empty. He sighed and started toward the dirty glasses, lamenting the sharp turn his night had taken from fun to boring.

 _Well_ , he thought, _it had to get cut off sooner or later._


	2. It's Ancient History, Baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one got really long WHOOPS! thanks for being patient with me lol

The screeching sound of a dying bat tore Atem out of a peaceful sleep at God-knows-how-early in the morning. Except it wasn’t a bat: it was his alarm. He had intentionally picked the most annoying of the default alarm sounds, because not much else could get him up in the morning.

Groggy, eyes half-closed in protest of waking up, he slapped around on his bedside table until the alarm was either snoozed or off. He didn’t much care which as he rolled over to try and get a little more sleep, but as soon as the thought of sleep was in his grasp, there was a buzzing sound, and the rattling of metal on wood.

Curiosity overpowering sleepiness for the moment, Atem rolled over again, picking up his phone and blinking at the flashing LED, signaling a new text message. _Huh,_ he mused at the thought of someone texting him first thing in the morning. _That’s new_.

He turned on his phone, squinting at the brightness, and looked at the time: 11:36am. Okay, so maybe not the _first_ thing in the morning. And the preview of the message already gave him the answer to the question of who would be texting him at all.

 

**New Message: Isis**

_I know you work very late hours, and cannot often get out of the house, but…_

 

Atem braced himself as he swiped the message to reveal the extent of his cousin’s rant, already coming up with expert-level deflections. She meant well, she really did. She just meant well in the form of _paragraphs_ and _paragraphs_ of text. Usually it was scolding him about working too much, or not eating right, or not getting enough sleep. After years of practice, he was remarkably adept at fending her off.

As expected, Isis’ message was huge, but the Arabic text on his phone wasn’t about him eating a vegetable at some point:

 

 **Isis** **11:36am**

_I know you work very late hours, and cannot often get out of the house, but if you are free tonight, the museum is (finally) opening the Egyptian exhibit that I have been working on! The grand opening will involve a small presentation and a speech. Rishid and Marik will be there as well, along with more of my research partners. This is very exciting news, and everyone would love it if you came._

 

Atem’s sleepy eyes widened the further he got down on the message. Isis had been pushing for an Ancient Egyptian exhibit – exclusive to the rest of the museum – for months, based on some revolutionary artifacts she and the rest of her team had uncovered. From what she told him, which wasn’t much, they’d uncovered some pretty revolutionary stuff in the tomb of some lost pharaoh. There was absolutely no way he could turn this down, not even if he wanted to. He tapped out a reply, with about as much enthusiasm as his brain could muster.

 

**Atem 11:39am**

_hey that’s wonderful! of course i’ll be there, what time is the thing?_

 

The response was near-immediate, barely giving Atem enough time to halfheartedly sit up in bed. He plopped back down to read it.

 

**Isis 11:39am**

_The event is at seven o’clock tonight. There aren’t very many seats, so unless you’d like to stand the whole time, I suggest you arrive in advance. Unless you are working late again?_

 

There was a subtle, barely noticeable stinger in that message. He could feel it.

 

**Atem 11:40am**

_normally i would be, but i can close up early tonight. just for you, my favorite cousin <3 _

 

**Isis 11:40am**

_Don’t do that. It’s frightening._

 

**Atem 11:40am**

_:P_

 

**Isis 11:41am**

_I will see you tonight. Remember to eat something_.

 

 _Aaaand there it is_ , he thought. Atem rolled his eyes, and lifted himself out bed with a grunt. Just when he thought he’d get away without a lecture.

 

**Atem 11:42am**

_oh no you’re too late_

 

**Atem 11: 42am**

_i’m starving to death_

**Atem 11: 42am**

_go on without me. x_x_

 

**Isis 11:42am**

_At last, I will have some peace._

**Atem 11:43am**

_rude!! i just died for you._

 

**Isis 11:43am**

_That’s your own fault, little cousin._

 

**Atem 11:43am**

_i’m 31_

 

**Isis 11:44am**

_And you will always be my little cousin._

 

Stretching, Atem congratulated himself on the flawless segue into a joke, distracting Isis with her own exasperation. Check _and_ mate.

He threw open the curtains behind his bed, just to make sure he would burn his eyes with the sun just enough to stay awake, and swiped his watched off the bedside table. The golden face of the clock winked at him in the light as he hooked it onto his wrist, ticking faintly. The antique metal was still shining, even after all the years he’d kept it. He brushed his fingers over the smooth surface, a lump growing in his throat before he shoved it down.

Just another morning.

Atem padded into the kitchen, shivering as his feet hit the cold tile. Bright afternoon light filtered into his apartment from the large glass doors on the opposite side of the mashup kitchen/living room. He approached the fridge, planning on staring at its contents until he saw something appetizing, and tore away the Monday date on the magnet calendar, revealing the current Tuesday. He stopped before opening the fridge door, at the one _other_ piece of paper, held up by a wine-bottle shaped magnet. He smiled at it.

It was a note on a sheet of lined paper, folded into quarters. The outside had “To: Atem,” written in tiny handwriting in black ink. The subject in question had found it taped to the front of the Pharaoh's Throne nearly a week ago, on Wednesday. It was the first and only handwritten note he'd ever received from a customer.

Unable to stop himself now, Atem took the note off the fridge, unfolding it to read the contents for the fourth time since he'd found it:

 

_Dear Atem,_

 

_This is the puzzle-solving guy from last night, the one with the terrible ex. My friends say I'm an “affectionate drunk,” and I don't know how much I may have ranted, so I apologize on behalf of my drunk self. I do know that you got me a ride home, and made a really terrible night into something way better than the halfway decent drink I was looking for. I'm definitely going to bring my friends here the next time we go out._

 

_Thanks for everything!_

 

_Yugi_

 

There was something so unrelentingly charming about a handwritten note that Atem couldn't help but reread it as often as he did. It was nice to know that he'd made so much of a difference that Yugi would address a letter specifically _to him_ , instead of just giving the bar a 5-star-rating on Yelp or something.

That, and the subtle promise that he would see Yugi again.

 _No,_ he scolded himself. _We aren't doing this._ He stuck the letter back on the fridge -- perhaps with more force than was necessary -- and yanked opened the fridge to angrily make himself a bowl of cereal.

Atem had made a list of reasons to fend off his childish infatuation with a customer he'd met _once_. One, they looked nearly identical. That's more than a little creepy, and kind of narcissistic. Two, Yugi _literally just_ ended a relationship, and it didn't go well. He probably isn't going to be looking for a new one any time soon. Three, when did Atem have time to go out with someone? He worked all week, including weekends, and his sleep schedule was totally fucked. Four, they had only met once! That was _not_ enough time to get to know someone enough to decide if dating was even an _option_ , especially if one half of the conversation was drunk half the time. Five, Yugi was a customer, full stop. He paid Atem for a service, and that's where their relationship ended. To expect more was waiting for heartbreak. Not that his heart was even _involved_ yet.

He repeated these reasons over and over to himself, but no matter how many times he said them -- out loud or otherwise -- there was always a tiny, _tiny_ part of him that hoped for something more. Against all reason.

Atem sat down at the kitchen table, bowl of cereal and spoon in hand, and rolled his eyes at himself. _You read the letter,_ he thought. _He's going to bring his friends next time. He's going to become just like any other round of partygoers on a Saturday night, and you'll forget why you ever had to think up this stuff._

He thought about Yugi becoming another one of the many faceless customers he saw on the weekends. Serving him a drink with a plastic smile and immediately forgetting about him as the next customer eye-pulled him from across the room. Not being able to pick him out from the dozens of people he saw on a regular basis. His stomach sank and twisted, but he quickly squashed the feeling.

If it was possible to stab something with a spoon, Atem figured out how, aggressively shoveling the cereal into his mouth.  _Come on_ , he thought. _You’re not fifteen. I’d tell you to get over it, but there isn’t even anything to get over._

He decided to distract himself with Isis. He picked up his phone again.

 

**Atem 11:59am**

_hey so how come all the cool artifacts aren't staying in egypt?_

 

Again, Isis responded with clockwork efficiency, despite the fact that Atem _knew_ she had to be doing more important things.

 

 **Isis** **11:59am**

_It is a temporary arrangement. A lot of the more delicate or unique items are staying in Egypt, and a few replicas have been created for this exhibit. I only wish they could stay…_

 

**Atem 12:00pm**

_why can't they?_

 

**Isis 12:00pm**

_Not enough space. The Domino Museum isn't big enough to house an entire separate exhibit indefinitely. It will stay for four months, and then we move it out again._

 

**Atem 12:01pm**

_tbh, japan doesn't seem like the best place to have a special fancy ancient egypt exhibit on display_

 

 **Isis** **12:01pm**

_How so?_

 

**Atem 12:02pm**

_just doesn't seem like the best audience. i feel like egyptians would be more excited about it than japanese_

 

**Atem 12:02pm**

_(we don't count, we moved here)_

 

**Isis 12:03pm**

_Don't be so sure. You might be surprised by the crowd tonight._

 

Atem frowned at the screen, confused. What in the world did that mean? Was there a secret underground network of Ancient Egyptian history buffs in Domino? And they _hadn't_ been swarming his bar ever since he opened it?

 

**Atem 12:03pm**

_?? lol okay_

 

**Isis 12:03pm**

_;)_

 

**Atem 12:04pm**

_EW WAS THAT AN EMOJI_

 

**Atem 12:04pm**

_IM TELLING MARIK_

 

He screenshotted the offending message, but didn't actually send it. It wasn't early enough in the morning (afternoon?) for Atem to try and decipher his youngest cousin's text lingo. He could have sworn it was a new kind of hieroglyphics picked up from endless hours working with ancient languages, but, apparently, it was all legitimate, and some people could even read it on the first try.

 _Oh God,_ he thought. _Am I old?_

 

 

“Be honest with me, Mai. Am I old?”

The bar was about to open, and the two bartenders present – Atem and Mai, who worked most of the early shifts – were setting up for the day. Atem flipped one of the chairs that had been stacked seat-down on the tables. It screeched as he dragged it across the floor to its proper place. Mai, behind the bar arranging the spirits, threw back her head and laughed.

“Honey,” she chided, “if _you’re_ old, then I should be in a nursing home. Why?”

“Marik's text speech is incomprehensible to me.”

Atem had sent his youngest cousin the scandalous Isis screenshot before opening the bar for setup at three. The response was several kinds of emoji faces that Atem didn’t know existed up until that point, and so many acronyms that he begged Marik to switch from Japanese to Arabic to see if it made any more sense. It didn’t.

“How old is he?” Mai asked.

“Twenty-four.”

“Oh, come on, it can’t be that bad.”

Atem sidled over to the bar, opening his phone to the offending message, and handed it over. “Suit yourself. If you can translate, let me know.”

Mai tossed her long blonde hair, and plucked the phone from Atem’s had confidently with manicured nails. As she scrolled, her expression grew less and less assured, dissolving into exasperated confusion.

“What _language_ is this?” she whispered.

“I told you it was a mess,” Atem said, shaking his head.

“What is ‘YGTBKMRN’?”

“I have no idea.”

“ _What_ is ‘XLNT’?”

“I don’t know!”

Mai handed the phone back as if it had insulted her. “If not being able to understand that nonsense makes us old, then I’ll register for my senior discount _tomorrow_.”

Atem took his phone back, tucking it back in his pocket. “I’ll be right behind you.”

They returned to setting up the bar in relative silence, occasionally having to shoo away a prospective customer who thought that waltzing in at 4:03 was the same as coming in at 4:30, when the Pharaoh’s Throne _actually_ opened. That was always fun to explain.

About fifteen minutes before opening, when all they had left to do was prepare for the Happy Hour rush and a little extra cleaning, Atem tossed Mai a set of the bar’s keys from where he was polishing the highball glasses. She caught them effortlessly, and returned to stacking napkins on the tables.

“If I’m not back by nine, you can close up,” he told her. “Family event tonight.”

“I saw that. Your half, anyway.”

“Yeah, I doubt I’ll get out of there before my shift is up. It’s a big deal, so it’ll be a late one.”

“Going anywhere else to celebrate with the victorious archeologists?”

“Home?”

Mai propped her hands on her hips. “That’s it?”

Atem put down a clean glass and picked up another. “Should I be going somewhere else?”

“I guess not. But tell me this: when do you go anywhere that isn’t here, your place, or the museum?”

He focused very intently on cleaning a spot off a glass. “I go to the grocery store.”

“And?”

“The liquor store.”

“ _And?_ ”

“And what?”

She made a disgusted sound. “ _And_ you never go anywhere fun for yourself. Or with your friends. _Please_ tell me you have friends.”

He rolled his eyes and picked up another glass to clean. “You sound like Isis. I have _friends_.”

Atem glanced up at her. She crossed her arms. “Uh-huh.”

“I do!”

“Name five friends you have.”

“Rishid—”

“That _aren’t_ your family members.”

 _Dammit_ , he thought. “You’re my friend.”

“You’re my boss. We’re friends by association.”

“Well, I’m friends with…the old man at the game shop?”

Mai put her head in her hands. “Atem, you’re killing me.”

“He’s a nice guy,” Atem continued. “He’s getting on in years, but he has a lot to teach me. He’s my _gaming mentor_.”

Mai hadn’t moved. “I’m dying a slow death.”

“Every time I get a thousand-piece puzzle, he gives me this _look_.”

“I am dead. You killed me.”

“We have a spiritual connection. You wouldn’t understand.”

Mai silently pulled her hands away from her face, approached the bar counter, and grabbed Atem by the shoulders. “I want you to do one thing for me.”

“Uh. Sure?”

“When you go to the museum tonight, make at least one friend. Please.”

Atem shrugged her off. “Again. Eerily similar to Isis.”

Mai crossed her arms. “Fine. If you don't want to make friends, it's on you. Just prepare to be pretty lonely for a while.”

Atem set down a clean glass and checked his watch: 4:28. “Well, the bar is about to be yours for the evening. You sure you don't want help for the first hour or two?”

Mai waved him off as she came around the counter. “I can handle a Tuesday Happy Hour, no problem.”

They sidestepped around each other, one going deeper into the bar, one going out. Mai stopped him as they crossed paths. She smiled at him, sincere, and maybe a little sad.

“Have fun,” she said. “I'm serious. Hell, have _too much_ fun. You might thank yourself later.”

Atem smiled back at her. “I'll show those ancient artifacts the time of their lives.”

“That's what I'm talking about.” She shoved him playfully. “Now get out of here.”

Atem made his way out of the bar, the front door jingling merrily as he left, stepping onto the sidewalk and into the cool autumn air of Domino.

 _Have fun_ , he thought, making his way to where his car was parked. _Make friends. Yeah right_.

 

 

The museum wasn't that far away from Atem, but distance never mattered, it seemed. Twenty minutes with traffic in a regular city translated to forty-five minutes in Domino, with so many cars backed up, it was impossible to see the road. With a notorious habit for showing up late, something that Isis loved to chastise him about, Atem figured he wouldn't take any chances with an event as important as this, and left at six fifteen. Just to be safe.

The sun already disappeared behind the tall buildings, making way for bright neon signs and street lights. Cars whirred past him on the nearly-empty road, headlights flashing like mechanical eyes. The traffic wouldn’t hit until he hit the inner city. _That’s_ where the mad rush would hit, with all the giant corporate towers and dozens of people trying to get home from – or for those that worked late nights, get _to_ – work. It was in those moments that Atem cherished living in the quieter, sleepier half of Domino.

He didn’t hate cities, obviously. He lived in one. But there was something claustrophobic about living in the middle of all the action, sandwiched between seven different company HQs, swimming through an ocean of people every day to get anywhere. At the very least, living outside the action gave Atem room to breathe.

He turned onto the street that would take him to the museum in a straight line. After so many years of living in one place, and going to the same places every time, he learned to take advantage of backroads and emptier streets, both to beat the rush, and to give himself the satisfaction of figuring out a shortcut. Maps were jut mazes, really.  The end was just wherever you wanted to end up. And mazes are puzzles, which meant Atem lived to solve them. He was the only person he knew that still had paper maps, lines drawn all over them in pens of various color.

Approaching the Domino Museum, he noticed that the traffic normally saved for escaping the city was going _into_ it. He checked his watch: 6:30. _Shouldn’t everyone be going home?_ he wondered. There was never this much inbound traffic, unless it was a weekend, a sports game, or some other significant event.

Pulling into the parking lot, he realized that the traffic wasn’t just heading _into_ the city, they were going right to the museum. A line of cars turned into the museum, which was already bursting at the seams. Atem may have done a few maneuvers that weren’t quite legal to get a parking spot that wouldn’t take ten minutes of walking to get back to from the museum, but he figured that he deserved a spot, considering his family was presenting this new exhibit, after all.

He made his way to the entrance and was doing double-takes the whole way there. He’d showed up _early_ , in his best – and only – suit, prepped to be one of the first people to arrive, but it seemed like half of Domino had the same idea. There was an unprecedented group of adults, teenagers, and even _children_ dressed likewise, all headed for the same door _. Larger crowd than I thought,_ he mused.

“Large,” for a museum didn't mean as much as “large,” for a concert, but Atem had guessed the crowd, at most, would be family members, the owners and employees of the museum, and maybe six history nerds in the audience. Not _this_ many people, unless his joke to Isis was true, and Domino _was_ comprised entirely of Ancient Egyptian history buffs, and he'd just never noticed. No, this was something else. It had to be.

Atem stepped into the door of the museum, past the giant columns reminiscent of Greek temples, and into the lobby. The marble-tiled room, decorated with large, square pillars and frosted glass windows, was packed. A tiny sign was set up near the door, reading “THE ART OF EGYPT EXHIBITION” in swirling letters, along with ticket prices, and a large arrow pointing toward the desk, which currently had a line snaking halfway across the room. Miffed, Atem took his place in the line, trying to gawk in a way that wasn’t noticeable.

The most surprising thing, he decided, was the teenagers. None of them looked much older than sixteen, or at the very least they hadn't graduated high school yet, the population most likely to avoid museums at any cost. And yet, a lot of them seemed willing, even _excited_ , to sit and listen to a bunch of adults talk about dead people. Which was really weird, frankly. Even as someone who _liked_ history, Atem remembered his parents practically dragging him across the floor at every museum they visited. His mother scolding him for sulking, his father’s false ire, joking about locking him in one of the display cases and leaving him there…

He swallowed thickly, pushing the memories away, electing not to think about the interests of random strangers anymore.

The line inched along, Atem finally coming to the head at least ten minutes after he'd arrived, luckily still on time. He paid for the event’s ticket, and donated his change to the museum just for kicks. The place that let Isis house her discoveries deserved it. He made his was into the exhibition room, steeling himself for human contact.

The room wasn't quite packed, but it was certainly getting there. Dozens of people milled about the room, talking, laughing, looking at the artifacts. About ten rows of tiny plastic chairs were set up in front of a tiny makeshift stage with a podium, some chairs, and a slideshow of archeological digs – relics covered in dust, archeologists smiling over a table covered in palm-sized reminders of an ancient people – played on a projector screen. Atem snagged a free chair in the back of the crowd, not risking the chance of having to stand the whole time – he got enough of that at work. He would have _liked_ to see Isis’ face when she saw him sitting in the front row, not late, but all the seats near the front were taken.

He glanced around, trying to shake off how _weird_ it was that people were fighting for front row seats to a speech about Ancient Egypt, but it stuck with him. What possible reason was there for so many regular people to –

Off to the side, he saw a group of kids – they couldn't have been older than thirteen – completely ignoring the exhibit. They pulled out decks of cards from their fancy suit pockets and kiddie handbags, excitedly waving them around, sorting through their decks and showing off their favorites. _Duel Monsters_ , he realized, as one of the card faces was tossed past his vision. _Of course_.

Atem snorted and looked away. He should have known, especially with KaibaCorp functioning as Domino's biggest – and richest – attraction. Never mind that Duel Monsters was about as relevant to Ancient Egyptian history as aliens, much less a museum exhibit. _Besides_ , he thought, taking another glance at the kids, _everyone knows Watapon is useless._

Then, the lights dimmed. The chatter that had filled the room became hushed and then silenced altogether. The light of the projector cut off and then reappeared, replacing the slideshow with, “The Art of Egypt Exhibition,” on a slide of a PowerPoint presentation. People gathered around the chairs, taking the empty ones, and standing near the back of the room.

Five people appeared from the back of the room, taking their places on the stage, to polite claps from the audience. Atem resisted the urge to wave as he counted his family members among the presenters – Isis first, obviously, then Rishid, Marik, a skinny guy with white hair, and –

_Yugi?_

He blinked, convinced his eyes were tricking him, playing on his strange fascination with the one-off customer, but no, there he was. Wild hair, blue (not purple) eyes, dressed sharp for Isis’ presentation. An excited _“Go Yugi!”_ from the front of the room, followed by a rippling chuckle from the audience, brought a shy smile to his face, along with a little wave.

 _What is he doing here_? Atem thought, suddenly nervous, even though he was positive Yugi couldn’t see him. _Does he work with Isis? She would have told me if she worked with someone who looked exactly like me, right?_

He was jolted out of his thoughts by the scratching of a microphone. Isis stood at the podium, in a long white dress and a loose scarf covering her head, her hair plaited as always. She’d styled her eyes as if she was wearing kohl, and in all other aspects, she looked as if she’d walked right off a wall of hieroglyphs.

“First,” she began, the cheap microphone amplifying her voice just enough to reach the back of the room, “I would like to thank the Domino Museum for hosting this exhibition, and I would like to thank all of you for attending it.”

Her statement was met with more polite applause, but Atem knew what she was playing at. With a turnout like this, he doubted she’d ever be left waiting for months to host an exhibit ever again. _Smart move_ , he thought. He’d have to congratulate her on oh-so-innocently pointing out her gigantic audience after the presentation.

“If any of you are unfamiliar with me and my work,” she continued, “I am Doctor Isis Ishtar. I am from Egypt originally, and moved to Japan to be closer to my brothers—” she gestured to Rishid and Marik “—as well as obtain my Ph.D. in archeology, in addition to my master’s degree in Egyptology. I have been based in Domino ever since, thanks to the reception of this fine community, and my two wonderful assistants, without whom I would never be organized enough to give a presentation.” The audience laughed, and Isis gestured to Yugi and the white-haired person.

 _Assistant_ , Atem thought, absorbed in the coincidence of it all. _He’s her assistant?_

The projector flipped to a different slide, a picture of a cave or, more likely, a tomb. It was covered in carvings and glyphs. “This,” Isis announced, “was found in the coveted Tomb of the Nameless Pharaoh. We call him this because all record of the name of this king has been obliterated, scratched out, or otherwise made unknowable. Pictured here in one of the ‘Shadow Games,’ I’m sure many in the audience are familiar with—”

Another _whoop_ in the front of the room, probably from the same person, cut off the presentation, followed by an angry “ _shhh_ ,” and Isis laughing.

“I figured _most_ , if not all, of you would recognize it. This depiction of a Shadow Game is revolutionary in the field of Egyptology, despite its recent discovery, because it is the only record of this Nameless Pharaoh’s cause of death.”

The slide flipped again, showing a close up of the pictures on the slab. “The Pharaoh is seen here, battling with what is mentioned to be a priest. We suspect this isn’t a _literal_ battle to the death, more a metaphorical kind, as the Games were traditionally used as skill testers, not a trial-by-fire. There is plenty of imagery like this seen throughout Ancient Egyptian history, and it may have been their best way to describe an epic rivalry between a king and this priest – who, perhaps, wished to usurp his king. In their strife, perhaps the king was stuck down by assassination, war, trickery, or some other form of ‘strategy’ like the kind employed in their Shadow Games.”

Atem wanted to pay attention. He really did. He _had_ been paying attention, then his eyes slid down the projector, and fixed squarely on Yugi, who was intently watching the presentation, occasionally leaning over to talk to the other assistant, excitedly pointing to the screen or gesturing around the room at one of the artifacts. But mostly he watched Isis talk with rapt attention, smiling gently at regular intervals, like he was remembering something he was fond of.

 _God, what is wrong with me?_ Atem berated himself. _This is so creepy. Stop staring_.

He fixed his gaze on Isis again, but couldn’t concentrate on anything she was saying. He stared at the art behind her, but didn’t absorb it. He kept flinging his gaze back to – for all intents and purposes – the complete stranger he had become momentarily obsessed with.

 _Make at least one friend,_ Mai's words came back to him. _Have fun_.

Atem chewed on the inside of his cheek at the thought of going up and talking to Yugi, a man he had met, seen drunk, and became a miniature therapist to in one night. That was _normal_ for a bartender – hell, it was in the job description. Being ready to deal with drunk people's tragic backstories was his specialty. But talking to someone, a stranger, to whom you drunkenly spilled how much you hate your ex-boyfriend outside of that setting wouldn't just be weird, it would be unsettling. Atem sure didn't want to meet the customer who blurted that he hated his dad for pressuring him into becoming an accountant. He might actually _run_ from the guy.

Besides, how do you make friends with _anyone_ coming off of that first meeting? _Hey, remember when you ranted at me about how much your ex sucked while drinking heavily? Well, based off of that experience alone, I think we could be great friends!_

Thunderous applause pulled him out of his own head so fast it gave him whiplash. Isis was waving at the crowd as she stepped away from the podium, and the PowerPoint had stopped on a single slide that read, “Thank you!”

Whoops.

The lights came up and the audience thinned out as they separated across the room to look at the newly discovered artifacts. Many of which were _probably_ mentioned in the presentation.

Atem stood up to try and peak across the sea of heads. Rishid was tall, so he'd be the easiest of his cousins to spot, and they'd probably all be standing together. Then he could focus on escaping the one person he'd been thinking about for exactly that reason.

After craning his neck for a solid three minutes, and finding no Rishid, he decided that wandering around might help get a better vantage point, and maybe he'd just run into one of them. As long as he didn't run into—

“Yugi!”

Before Atem could hurriedly start walking away from the general area as inconspicuously as possible, someone grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.

The face of an excited guy with a mop of blonde hair and a goofy smile said, “Yug’! Where’ve you been, man, we’re all…” His smile slowly faded as he took in Atem’s face, and he awkwardly removed his hand. “Oh. You’re not Yugi.”

“Nope,” Atem said, smiling and hoping it didn’t look like a grimace. “Not me, sorry.”

The stranger scratched the back of his head. “Jeez, I’m sorry. You look exactly like someone I know.”

Two people, a woman with short brown hair and a man with a pompadour, rushed up behind the blonde guy.  

“Jou, you can’t just grab random strangers,” the woman scolded.

The blonde guy – Jou, apparently – raised his hands in surrender. “I didn’t know he was a stranger – he looks just like Yugi!”

The guy with the pompadour glanced at Atem for a second, then did a double take. “Wow. Yeah he really does.”

The woman took in Atem curiously for a minute, and her eyes got wide. “What a coincidence.”

The walking-talking-coincidence named Atem continued to stand there uselessly, half-smiling and rocking back on his heels. “Yep. I’m sure it is.”

“Uh, well,” Jou piped up, “if you see a guy that looks exactly like you, send him our way.”

Walking backwards a little preemptively, Atem nodded. “You got it. Enjoy the exhibit.”

Not waiting for a response, he spun around and walked deeper into the exhibit, toward anything that even looked remotely interesting. Anything that _didn’t_ look interesting would work too. He just needed to get lost in the crowd.

 _Wow,_ he realized _. I am completely losing my mind because I might see someone I barely know_.

That realization didn’t stop him from shouldering his way past two dozen people, to the very back of the room, but it did make him think about how stupid this whole situation was. That is, until he saw what was in the back of the room.

There were three glass cases lined up, displayed on pretty pedestals with lengthy plaques bolted to the wall behind them. He couldn’t see what was in them, but he definitely saw a flash of gold. As he got closer, he realized it wasn’t just a flash – all three artifacts were _made_ of gold.

The center case held what looked like a bulky, pyramid-shaped, puzzle-box of some sort, but it didn’t have a handle or a way to open it. What it did have was a giant piece missing from the outward-facing side, the piece in question lying next to it in the case. It had the Eye of Horus molded into the center, clearly the biggest piece out of the puzzle, all of which were the strangest looking shape Atem had ever seen. None of them looked like they would be able to logically fit together, and yet here they were, completely snug against each other.

“I knew you would like that one.”

Atem was smiling before he even turned around. “You know me too well.”

Isis crossed the room like she owned the place, and crushed Atem in a hug that could crack bones. He returned the favor, though it was less of a “crushing hug,” than it was a “big squeeze.”

“Was the drive here alright?” she asked, pulling away.

“There was more traffic than I anticipated,” he replied, then shot a knowing look her way. “But I’m sure you knew that.”

Isis tapped the side of her nose. “I keep telling you I can predict the future.”

“Right. Did one of these fancy golden artifacts give you magic powers or something?”

Isis laughed and shook her head. “No, not yet. I’m still holding out.”

Atem glanced over her shoulders. “Where’s the walking glitter bomb and his tall shadow?”

“Marik and Rishid are preparing the exhibit for a special guest.” Her voice was even but there was a twinkle in her eye that Atem didn’t miss. His jaw dropped.

“You’re kidding.”

Isis shook her head ever so slightly with a barely perceptible smile. “We’ll have the head of KaibaCorp himself in this exhibit inside the hour.”

Atem mouthed _wow_ , blinking rapidly. “I don’t even want to _know_ how you convinced him to do it, but I am so proud of you, Isis.”

She shrugged, stepping past him toward the glass cases. “All in a day’s work.”

Atem turned back to the golden puzzle. “Did you find this in a day?”

Isis snorted. “We found the _pieces_. Scattered all around the bottom of this pharaoh’s tomb.”

“The nameless guy?”

“The Nameless Pharaoh, yes.” She pointed to the adjacent wall, and Atem followed her hand to something he couldn’t _believe_ he didn’t notice first.

Two wall-sized slabs of rock were held precariously behind glass cases, the same ones from the pictures in the slideshow. They stood nearly floor-to-ceiling in the exhibit showroom, intricately detailed with hieroglyphics and carvings of an epic battle between priest and king. A few words were scratched out and huge chunks were broken off, but their size was so impressive by itself that the only thing Atem could do was stare at them.

“Wow,” he said.

“We got lucky when we got permission to ship the real things to Japan,” Isis agreed. “Making replicas of these would have costed too much time and money.”

“ _Wow_ ,” Atem repeated, because he couldn’t find the words to say anything else. Somehow, he didn’t think they would be this big.

“This was the King’s Puzzle.”

The word “puzzle,” snapped him back to reality. “What?”

Isis gestured to the pyramid-shaped box. “This. The only record we have of this is called the King’s Puzzle.”

Atem looked down at the strangle golden artifact. “What was it for?”

“I have no idea. It doesn’t seem to serve a purpose other than to be ostentatious.”

“He _was_ a pharaoh.”

“Your bar is named after the title.”

“I never said I _wasn’t_ a show off.”

Isis rolled her eyes, but she was smiling anyway. “Whatever shall I do with you, Atem?”

“I mean, hey, maybe the guy just liked puzzles. It was the king’s special puzzle for when he got bored at meetings. You ever think of that?”

“Are you implying that Ancient Egyptian pharaohs brought _toys_ to their meetings?”

“Are you implying that politics is interesting enough to _not warrant_ toys?”

They locked eyes intensely, neither wavering in their stance, not giving any ground. Unbreakable warriors, they stared each other down across the six-inch battle field. The room around them did not exist. It was only the battle of wills between them: the staring contest of their very souls.

Atem let out a puff of air right into Isis’ face. She blinked.

“Yes!” he crowed, pumping his fist into the air.

“You— _You little shit_ ,” Isis cursed, rapidly switching to Arabic mid-sentence.

He gasped, and held a dramatic hand to his chest. “ _Isis_ ,” he replied, also in Arabic. “ _This is a fucking family event._ ”

“ _It’s a family event until you pull that bullshit on me._ ”

“ _Hey, watch this_!” Atem blew another puff of air into her face again, and she swiped the air as if that would stop it.

“ _I have two degrees, goddammit. I have a doctorate.”_

“ _But you don’t have a warrior’s eyes_.”

Isis blew in his face in retaliation, and though it burned, Atem kept his eyes open the whole time just to spite her.

“ _You’ll never defeat me, Isis_ ,” he promised. “ _I am the king of petty children’s games._ ”

“You’re the king of _what_?”

Both Isis and Atem whipped around to find Marik, dressed in what looked to be faux leather, which was the tamest outfit he owned, and Rishid, wearing a simple suit and tie.

 “Marik!” Isis said, turning all of her energy on her brother and his posse. “Is everything set up.”

The youngest of the Ishtar’s flipped his hair, and pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “Everything should be fine, but they want your approval because you’re the ‘officiator’ or whatever.” Marik’s air quotes were complimented by his sparkling fingernails.

Isis sighed and rubbed her head. Probably anticipating paperwork. “Yes, yes, I’ll follow you over.”

Marik shrugged and turned to Atem with a hand held up for a high-five. “Long time no see, cuz.”

Atem took the high-five, which devolved into a complicated handshake that he impressed himself by remembering. “Too long.”

He looked up at Rishid, a constant reminder that he was five-foot-even. “Hey, big man.”

Rishid smiled a little and nodded.

“Hey,” Marik said. “I’m going to bring my friends to your bar for my birthday, that cool?”

“Of course,” Atem replied, a little confused, “that’s fine. You don’t have to _ask_ me, Marik. You can just show up with thirty of your closest friends and make me the richest man alive whenever you want.”

Marik laughed and Atem was surprised, not for the first time, that lightning didn’t strike in the distance. “In your dreams.”

“I can wait.”

“Gentlemen,” Isis interrupted. “I believe I have somewhere to—Oh!”

She looked past both of her brothers and into the crowd behind them and waved. Atem leaned out to look behind Marik’s shoulder and his stomach dropped into his feet. He resisted the urge to bolt, even as he forced his face to remain neutral.

Isis shooed Marik and Rishid out of the way and dipped into the crowd, ushering forward two people.

“Atem,” she started, “I’ve been meaning to introduce them both to you, but you’re always busy, so before I have to take care of work I’ll do it now. This is Ryou Bakura, he’s one of my assistants, he helps out Marik with language deciphering.”

Ryou was the one with the white hair, and he looked near-unhealthily thin. He gave a shy wave, and Atem waved politely back.

“And this,” Isis continued, “is Yugi. He does a little of everything, and he put together the King’s Puzzle when we brought it back to the museum.”

Yugi tilted his head, a curious smile on his face. He was wearing a purple tie.

“Atem, you know Isis?” he asked, he glanced back at Isis, who raised her eyebrows.

“You know Yugi?” she asked.

Atem, currently trying not to have a meltdown, laughed a little too loud. “I didn’t know he was your assistant, if that’s what you mean!”

A familiar blonde head popped up behind Yugi. “Hey, that’s the guy!”

Two more heads appeared, the same trio that cornered Atem earlier.

The blonde -- Jou? -- pointed. “Yugi, I told you, that's the guy!”

Yugi glanced between his friend and Atem. “Yeah, I can see that, Jou. Atem--”

“You _know him_?” Jou gasped.

“Okay, _what_ is going on?” the brown-haired woman asked.

Atem wanted to curl into a ball, and stay there. This was the worst outcome possible.

“It's not really anything, guys,” Yugi promised. “We met one time at a bar.”

“My bar,” Atem clarified, before anyone got any ideas. “I own a bar. I'm a bartender. I served him.”

“Exactly. End of story.”

 _Well_ , Atem thought. _Maybe for you_.

“ _Atem,_ ” Isis said, “ _why didn't you tell me you knew Yugi_?”

It took him a second to realize she was speaking in Arabic. For some reason. That did not bode well.

“I didn't think you’d care,” he replied. He didn’t see the need to switch languages…yet.

“ _If you would have told me, I could have set something up_!”

Now was the time to switch languages. “ _You’ve got to be kidding me._ ”

“ _He's absolutely perfect for you, I promise. He loves puzzles!”_

Atem rubbed his eyes and prayed to any listening god that the flush crawling up his neck wasn’t visible. “ _Can we not do this right now? Or ever again, for that matter?”_

 _“I agree_ ,” chimed Marik, forcing Atem to remember that two additional family members were in the room, that could one-hundred-percent understand what was happening, and would not ever let him live this down. Awesome.

Five sets of monolingual eyes were staring, confused, at the private conversation happening in front of them.

“Uh…” Yugi started. “Should we go?”

“No, of course not,” Isis said. “I have to take care of some event scheduling. Why don't you all make friends?”

Yugi's group of friends, including Ryou, glanced warily at each other. Atem was inclined to agree, trying to kill Isis with only his eyes. Yugi, on the other hand, smiled.

“Sure!” he agreed.

“Wonderful,” Isis said, staring pointedly at Atem. _“This is such a good opportunity to get to know each other. I'm sure he already likes you.”_

“Isis! Please!” Atem said, not bothering to switch languages.

She shrugged and turned around. Marik clapped him on the shoulder as he walked past. Rishid gave a sympathetic nod.

“ _She's trying her best_ ,” he pointed out.

“ _I know, big guy_ ,” Atem sighed.

When all three of the Ishtar's were out of sight, none of those remaining said a word. The only sounds were the milling about the gradually decreasing museum goers.

“What was that all about?” Ryou finally asked.

“My dearest cousin Isis,” Atem answered, not bothering to hide his sarcasm, “believes that I need a lot more friends.”

It wasn't technically a lie, and there was absolutely no way he was going to tell the truth with Yugi standing within five feet of him. Or ten miles. Or ever. He wasn’t even going to _think_ about the truth.

“I guess she can have her wish, right?” Yugi asked, looking around at everyone with a hopeful smile. “I mean, we’re already here.”

Damn, if that wasn’t a good point. And there was something about the way he was smiling that made Atem want to keep it there.

“I don’t see why not,” he said. _What am I doing_? he thought. The other members of the group started shrugging, nodding, and otherwise agreeing. This was not how he planned his evening to go, but, apparently, there was no turning back.

“Awesome!” Yugi said. “Since you already know me and Ryou, why don’t we go down the line and get everyone else’s names out of the way?”

Pompadour-guy went first. “Honda.”

The woman next to him waved. “Anzu.”

“I’m Jonouchi, everyone calls me Jou. I’m _also_ the guy who grabbed you.”

Despite himself, Atem laughed. “Don’t worry, I remember.”

“You _grabbed him_?” Yugi gasped.

“He looks exactly like you! With the—” Jou stuck his fingers out on top of his head, mimicking their shared spiky hair. Yugi smacked his hands down.

“It is a little strange,” Ryou piped up. “What are the odds that you two look almost exactly alike?”

Atem shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you, but it’s clearly a higher chance than I thought.”

Honda gazed off into the distance. “Do you think we all have near-identical clones out there?”

Jou shuddered. “I hope not.”

“No offense,” Yugi said to Atem, “but it was a little weird sitting down at a bar and staring at _myself_.”

“None taken,” he replied. “It was a little weird serving myself too.”

“What did you think when you saw each other?” Anzu asked.

Yugi shrugged. “Pretty normal. ‘Whoa, he looks like me.’”

“Mine was, ‘Hey, this guy stole my haircut!’”

Everyone laughed and Atem patted himself on the back for breaking the ice better than he ever had in his life. Maybe this _wasn’t_ going to be a disaster. Maybe he’d actually get some friends out of it.

“So, what do you all do?” he asked, feeling a little more confident.

“I’m a ballet teacher,” Anzu said.

Honda puffed out his chest a little. “Personal trainer.”

Jou wiggled his hand back and forth. “Eh, I’m working on it.”

Atem nodded solemnly. “I’ve been there.”

“When did you open your bar?” Anzu asked.

“It’s been a little while,” he admitted, furrowing his brows as he counted up the time. “I think eight years? Nine?”

“That’s impressive,” she remarked.

“Having cousins willing to throw money around certainly helps.”

“But,” Yugi countered, “you’re a successful business all by _yourself_. Everyone needs a little help when they start.”

“I…never really thought about it like that,” he admitted, and it was true. He wasn’t ashamed of getting help from the start, of course, but it did feel a little disingenuous when he claimed to run his bar, “alone.”

Honda spoke up. “The Ishtar’s are your cousins, then?”

“All three of them, yeah,” he confirmed.

“Did all of you move up to Japan together?”

Atem’s heart dropped like a stone, sitting at the bottom of his stomach and radiating cold. He reached for his watch. It felt heavier than usual.

“No,” he said. “I moved after they did.”

Yugi met his eyes purposefully. “Speaking of _moving_ , do you guys want to go sit down or something?” he asked, a little louder than he had to.

“Please!” Jou agreed. “My legs are killing me.”

Everyone started talking about going somewhere or another, but Atem was still swimming in his own head from the previous conversation. And how he got out of it.

 _Did Yugi change the subject…for me_? he thought.

Several loud clicking sounds, like a bunch of crickets all singing together, drew his attention. He craned his neck over the group and saw a large crowd grouped by the front doors. They were all clambering to look at something, and camera were flashing again and again.

“What was that?” Anzu asked, turning around.

Atem checked his watch: 8:32. That was around the time the exhibit was supposed to end, which meant—

“The special guest is here,” he said. “I can’t believe she did it,” he added, mostly to himself.

Jou raised a brow. “’Special guest’?”

Atem shrugged. “Depending on how special you think gaming tech is, I guess. Isis somehow got the head of KaibaCorp to come down and take a look at all this.”

Yugi, very uncharacteristically, paled. He almost looked like he was going to be sick. “ _The_ head of KaibaCorp?”

“As far as I know.”

At that, all of Yugi’s friends condensed around him like penguins huddling for warmth. Anzu was suddenly furious, Jou looked like he was about to punch someone, Honda appeared to be debating whether or not to hold him back, and Ryou patted Yugi’s shoulder sympathetically.

He was _definitely_ missing something here.

“Do we, uh,” he guessed, “need to get out of here?”

“Please,” Yugi mumbled. He looked miserable.

Atem glanced at the door again. “I don’t think the front is an option.”

“We can take the back way out,” Ryou suggested.

“And go where?” Anzu asked.

Atem had an idea. A really crazy idea that was probably dumb.

 _It wouldn’t be too late_ , his brain reminded him. _It isn’t time to close yet_.

 _But is it a_ dumb _idea_? he asked himself.

_Only one way to find out!_

_It’s probably a dumb idea if I’m talking to myself_.

He decided to say it anyway.

“My shift is about to start soon,” he offered, “if…you all want to grab some drinks and take your mind off this?” _Whatever “this” is._

The penguin huddle considered this for about thirty seconds, before Yugi spoke up.

“That sounds nice,” he said.

And thus, it was settled.

Everyone agreed to try and shuffle out while keeping Yugi as concealed as possible. Atem volunteered to be a false-positive Yugi, just in case one of them was spotted, even though he had no idea what was going on. They kept their penguin huddle together with as much of their backs facing the oncoming procession as possible.

Ryou led the charge the closer they got to the back of the museum, through a door marked “EMPLOYEES ONLY”, and another door marked, “EMERCENCY EXIT ONLY.” Technically, two of their group were employees, and it was a _kind_ of emergency, so Atem figured it counted.

Once outside, everyone relaxed, and split the group. Yugi looked a little better, though there was still something sad in his eyes. Atem bit the inside of his cheek. What was he supposed to say? He didn’t even know why Yugi was upset.

“Off to the bar then?” Ryou asked.

“I can lead you all there,” Atem offered.

“Let’s all pile into the Jonouchi Mobile!” Jou cheered, and everyone groaned.

“Jou,” Yugi sighed, “I love you. But I would rather go back inside than ride in that death trap.”

“Psh, my car is fine!” Jou insisted. The looks everyone gave him were pretty clear that it was not fine. He pouted. “Well, it’s your ride, so take it or leave it.”

Atem raised his hand. “I have an extra seat. It’s a coupé, though, so I can only fit one other person.”

“Sold,” Yugi said immediately.

He didn’t think it would be that easy. In fact, he didn’t even expect it to be Yugi. But no one was arguing, so…

“Alright,” Atem said. “See you all there?”

“Hopefully,” Anzu groaned.

Jou lead his unhappy passengers around the far side of the building. “You guys are all ungrateful!”

Atem pointed over his shoulder, around the other side. “Mine’s this way.”

“Lead on,” Yugi said.

So he did.

 _Alright_ , he thought. _I guess this is happening now. Time to be completely normal_.

He really hoped he could pull of being normal.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey so not only is this my first yugioh fic, but it's also my first fic that involves shipping ever, so i'm really grateful for all the support i'm getting. you're all fabulous!!


	3. Confession Concession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updates are going to be slowing down quite a bit -- i'm graduating in June so my classes are going to start hitting harder and faster lol. thank you for being patient with me!

The journey to the car was silent. Most of the time Atem spent walking was taken up with messaging Mai not to close up early, because he was on his way back with the friends he'd promised. She didn't respond, but he knew she'd see it.

He was mostly quiet for Yugi's sake. He'd retreated into himself, and Atem could almost hear him being swallowed alive by his thoughts. He didn't know if talking would make it worse, and even if he did want to say something, he had no idea what would diffuse the situation. So he kept quiet.

Atem's little red coupé, on the far end of the parking lot, greeted them with a chirrup as its owner unlocked the doors.

“What does Jou's car look like?” Atem asked. “I don't want to take off without him.”

“Oh, it's a rust bucket,” Yugi said, with an expression somewhere between fond and disgusted. “Look for a blue truck with more dents than you've ever seen in your life.”

Atem opened the door and sat down, Yugi shortly following. “Blue truck, a lot of dents,” he confirmed. “You got it.”

Once they were both settled, Atem pulled the car out of the spot and went to sit near the entrance of the lot to wait on the rest of the group. Yugi was still quiet, staring at his hands.

 _This is going to be a fifteen-minute car ride full of awkward if you don't do something,_ he reasoned.

“Hey, Yugi,” he began. Yugi glanced up. “I don't _really_ know what was going on in there, and the only thing I know about you is that you like whiskey and work for my cousin.” That got a small laugh, so he kept going. “But I also have two ears and a shoulder if you need it. Not that you have to explain anything to me. At all. Just an offer, and you don't have to take it.” _God this is weird, am I weird? This feels weird._

But, to his surprise, Yugi didn't jump out the window.

“Thank you,” he said instead. Then scratched at his arm, sheepish. “Really, I don't mind Jou's car much. I just knew they'd all…” He gestured vaguely.

“Make a big deal of it?”

“Yeah. We've all been friends since high school, so we're always looking out for each other. But sometimes it can be a little much. Especially when they're asking me if I'm okay fifteen times in a minute.”

“Well, there's no big deals here,” Atem promised. “The only big deal I make is about people who think that chocolate flavored liqueur is remotely good.”

Yugi's face scrunched up in disgust. “Ugh.”

Atem nodded solemnly. “Ugh.”

Yugi looked out the window and smacked Atem's arm. “That's them.”

Atem learned forward to see, and –

“Oh wow, you weren't kidding,” he said, cringing back into his seat. He was surprised the truck was still in motion with all that damage. Despite knowing less than nothing about cars, he was positive that thing definitely should have fallen apart by now.

He honked as Yugi rolled down the window and waved. A thumbs up came out of the driver's seat window and several more hands waved from the backseat.

“Let's get this show on the road,” Atem said, turning out of the parking lot and onto the highway.

He elected not to take any side roads, even if they were faster, so he wouldn't lose Jou on the road in the middle of the night. It was basically a straight shot to the bar, anyway, with the nighttime traffic having settled down a tad.

“I want to thank you for what you did back there,” Atem mentioned, after another spell of silence. “Changing the subject, and all that.”

Yugi brushed his hand through the air. “Don't worry about it. I could tell you were uncomfortable, so I did something about it.”

“Granted, but a lot of people don't catch that hint. So, thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

It was quiet again. Then—

“You know,” Yugi continued, “you don't have to answer people when they ask questions like that, right?”

“Huh?”

“About your family. I grew up without my dad, so I've had people asking me those questions my whole life. It was always awkward until I realized I didn't have to answer them.”

Atem risked glancing away from the empty road. “Well, yeah, but what do you say?”

Yugi shrugged. “I just started saying I didn't feel comfortable answering their question. And ninety percent of the time, people are cool with it.”

That wasn't a bad idea, actually. Would it really be that easy?

“That really helps,” Atem said, genuine. “Thank you again.”

He could hear Yugi's smile when he replied, “No problem again.”

The conversation threatened to drop again, and Atem wasn't about to let that happen. Not when he was doing so well.

“Did you really solve that puzzle back in the exhibit?” he asked.

“Yep!” Yugi said, as if he'd been waiting all night for someone to ask. “It was one of the only non-replicable artifacts that Isis’ team brought back from Egypt, and no one could figure out how to put it back together for the display.”

“Except you.”

“Except me.” He laughed before continuing, “You should have _seen_ the looks on all their faces when I came into work with it put together.”

“How long did it take you?” Atem asked. The puzzle enthusiast in him was geeking out, and it was just something he _had_ to know.

“Three weeks.”

“That's it? The thing looked complicated as hell.”

He got a groan out of that one. “It's like it was built to be confusing and dumb. Whoever made it had a blood feud with the Nameless Pharaoh, I swear.”

Atem smiled a little. “That bad, huh?”

“Worse. When I _did_ finally put it together, I half expected a ghost of this dead pharaoh guy to come congratulate me, and grant me a wish or something. I deserved it.”

“Even though that didn't happen, you did a great job. As one puzzle solver to another.”

“Thank you, fellow puzzle solver.”

This was going great! Atem couldn't believe how great things were going, and they weren't even half-full of alcohol yet. He and Yugi might actually be _friends_ at the end of the night.

The tiny part he kept locked away hoped for something _else_ , but he beat it back with his five-rule mantra.

“Did you see all those kids with Duel Monsters decks?” he asked, if only to distract himself.

“How could I not?” Yugi replied. “It was the reason half the audience showed up.”

“I bet it was less than _half_ —”

In his peripheral vision, Atem saw a look that clearly said _, You’re lying to yourself and to me_.

“Fine,” he relented. “But I’m sure there were _some_ people who came for the history.”

“Oh, yeah. Almost a dozen people showed up for that.”

Atem pressed a hand to his heart. “Ouch. Those are _my people_.”

“’Your people’?” Yugi laughed. “Who are you, the Nameless Pharaoh?”

“Definitely. I’ve been reincarnated, and I’m back for revenge against that douchey priest.”

“Good luck on your mission with _that_ subtlety.” Yugi gestured out the window.

Ahead, the light-up sign in the window of the Pharaoh’s Throne greeted them in flashing gold. Through the window, Atem could see Mai serving a pair of frothing beer glasses to some customers at one of the tables. He checked his rearview mirror – the shambling truck had followed him all the way back. _Nice_. He turned into the tiny parking lot on the side of the building and parked. They both stepped out.

“I’m hiding in the plain sight,” he said, with all the wisdom of a sage, leaning on the car door. “He’ll never know it’s me _because_ it’s so obvious.”

“Uh huh.”

Atem jerked his thumb back toward the bar. “I’m going to go swap shifts. Meet you all inside.”

Yugi gave him a little thumbs up. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

He turned around and headed toward the building, pulling his suit jacket around him as a chill wind rushed up to his chest. He frowned down at the nicest clothes he owned. Hopefully he wouldn’t spill anything on it. Besides, he didn’t feel like rushing home to change. Not while he had five people here on his invitation.

As soon as he opened the door, he heard Mai croon in approval from behind the counter. “Somebody cleans up well!”

“Thanks, I haven’t worn anything this nice in three years.”

He slipped behind the counter, and Mai slid the keys down toward him. She had her purse slung over her shoulder, and was in the process of throwing a jacket over her uniform.

“Where are those friends you promised me?” she prodded.

“They,” he replied, sliding the keys over by the register, “are parking, and will be here—”

The door opened, and the group entered, Yugi at the head of the procession. They all waved.

Atem waved back, then turned to Mai, smug. “Right now.”

The group claimed one of the larger booths in the back of the room, all the while looking around at the decorations and chatting amongst themselves. Even Yugi looked to be in better spirits, talking with his hands excitedly.

“You sure you can handle them all?” Mai asked, nudging Atem with her elbow.

He did a head count of everyone he saw seated. “There’s eight people in here right now. Come on.”

“They look loud.”

“You _just_ saw them.”

“And I _saw_ that they look loud.”

“Do you, or do you not, want me to have friends?”

Mai rolled her eyes and ruffled his hair as she moved past him. “Call me if you need help.”

“Like you’ll be awake,” he called after her. She made a peace sign over her shoulder as she walked out the door.

Atem glanced across the room to his group of potential friends, then at the rest of the bar. Everyone except the new-comers seemed to be nursing one drink or another. He rubbed his hands together, and threw a cleaning towel over his shoulder. Time to get to work.

He approached the full booth with a smile and a bright, “What can I get for everyone?”

 

 

At some point during the night, Atem had lost his jacket behind the counter, rolled the sleeves of his button-up shirt to the elbows, and spun a chair around to sit in it backwards to perform bar-related party tricks for the museum table.

He rapidly swapped around three upside-down shakers on the table, everyone watching intently. Everyone had pushed their various drinks out of the way to set up this game, and were now watching intently. Jou, especially, staring at the shakers as if his life depended on it, rum and coke completely forgotten. Honda’s eyes looked like they were about to roll out of his head, leaning in close. Yugi insisted he was playing, but hadn’t moved an inch since the game started, another whiskey in hand. Ryou had opted out, watching curiously with a Shirly Temple, along with Anzu.

“How do you move them so fast?” she asked, staring over the rim of her martini in awe.

“It’s all in the wrist, really,” Atem explained. “And using long fingers to my advantage.”

 He shuffled them around one last time, and let his hands float off above his head, coming to rest at the head of the chair. He looked at his three players.

“So,” he said, “which one is it?”

They looked at each other. Yugi gestured with his drink slightly, as if to say _be my guest_.

“I think it’s _this one_ ,” Honda announced, grabbing the shaker on the right and lifting it.

“Damn, that was mine too,” Jou cursed.

A shot glass, full of a clear liquid, was revealed. It sat on the table innocently.

“You know the rules,” Atem said.

Honda took the shot, knocked it back, then coughed and gagged. “Not water,” he sputtered. “ _Not_ water.”

“Was it the vodka or the vinegar?” Jou asked.

Honda gave him a withering look, then tipped the glass toward his face. “Guess.”

Jou sniffed the empty glass and grimaced. “ _Ugh_ , God. So, vinegar’s out.”

“You’re _welcome_ ,” Honda groaned, slamming the glass down, dragging over his pint of beer and sulking into it.

Atem was trying extremely hard not to laugh. “Alright, Jou, Yugi? Make your guess.”

Jou sat and stared at the two remaining shakers, glowering at them as if he could scare them into revealing their secrets.

“It’s the middle one,” Yugi said, without hesitation.

Jou turned to him, scandalized. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because the vinegar was in the same place as when we started.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Jou countered. “It could just be a coincidence.”

“It _could_ be,” Yugi allowed, then he slid his gaze to lock with Atem, sitting across from him, “but it isn’t.”

“What ever could you be accusing me of?” Atem asked, innocently propping his chin up with his hands on the back of the chair.

Yugi squinted, but a tiny smile curved his lips. “Either you put them all back to their original places, or you left the vinegar in the same spot to psyche me out.”

“You mean to psyche you _both_ out,” Atem corrected, nodding toward Jou.

Yugi blinked, as if he’d only just noticed the other people at the table. “Yeah. Right, to psyche us out.”

Jou shrugged. “I don’t know, Yug’. That seems a little farfetched.”

“Well, it’s a fifty-fifty chance,” Yugi offered.

“If you’re _so_ confident that you’re right,” Atem offered, “I’ll drink the shot you don’t pick.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he could see Yugi sizing him up. Trying to figure out how hard he was bluffing, looking for a tell. His suspicious squint returned, and he crossed his arms. Atem mirrored his position. A confident smirk had taken up residence on his face. He was having a little too much fun.

There were no stakes, he knew it. The vodka was only as strong as vodka – it certainly wasn’t going to put him on his ass – and water was just _water_. The vinegar was the only seriously bad one of the three, and Honda had taken that one for the team. There was absolutely no benefit to winning or losing, except that. But that was the prize right there: _winning_. The chance to claim victory.

He could never resist the thrill of making an opponent second-guess themselves. The mind games that came with silly dares like this fired him up like nothing else, especially against someone who was a decent match. And, boy, was Yugi ever a decent match.

 _Take the bait_ , he willed. _Come on, you know you want to_.

“Fine,” Yugi relented. He places his whiskey on the edge of the table, and rested one hand on the other on the middle shaker.

“Fine,” Atem agreed. He placed one hand on the shaker to his right. “Is that your _final_ answer?” he teased.

“As a matter of fact,” Yugi answered, lifting the shaker to reveal the shot, “it is.”

Atem lifted his shaker, and picked up the tiny glass. “Bottoms up.”

The clinked their glasses together, and knocked back the shots. They set them down at the same time. They locked eyes again, equally confident.

“So?” Anzu asked. “Who won?”  Without looking, Yugi tipped the empty shot to Anzu. She sniffed. “It doesn’t smell like anyth— _Hey_ —”

“You, sir,” Atem announced, finally breaking eye contact, “just made me drink on the job.”

The table _exploded_. Cheers and congratulations made their way around, Yugi was jostled and given high-fives, and Atem took that moment stand and gather up the empty glasses and shakers.

“Good game,” he said, ostensibly to the whole table, but mostly to Yugi.

“Good game,” Yugi replied.

Atem flipped the switch in his brain that activated his customer-service-mode. “Anybody need any refills? Something different?”

The resounding consensus was, “nope,” so he headed back to the counter to put away their game pieces. The rest of the bar had emptied out for the night, mercifully, leaving Atem alone with the table of people he was rapidly becoming comfortable with. Which hadn’t happened in a while. Had it happened…ever?

He was debating throwing the shakers in with the other dirty glasses – _It’s not like I mixed anything with them. But they_ were _on the table_. _Eh, better safe than sorry_. – when he saw Anzu approaching the bar.

“Hey,” he said. “Change your mind about wanting something else?”

“No,” she replied. “I actually wanted to ask you something.”

Over her shoulder, Atem could see the other four, still sitting, trying very hard to look like they weren't watching intently. And failing. Alright. Nothing suspicious or anxiety-inducing about that.

“What do you need?”

Anzu rocked back on her heels. She wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I mean, I want to ask _you_ , as in the person. Not as in the bartender.”

Atem, the person and the bartender, blinked. “Sure?”

Anzu let out a rush of air. She still wouldn’t look at him. “Okay, so, I know we just met and everything, but would you maybe want to hang out together? When you're not at work, obviously.”

 _Oh_ , he thought, relieved. _Is that all this is about_?

“Yeah, why not?”

She immediately perked up. “Really?”

He shrugged, smiling a little sheepishly. “Totally. You all seem like really cool people, and I know this might be awkward to say, but I think we could all be really great friends.”

Anzu's face fell, her smile dropped. “That's...not what I meant.”

_What? What else could she possibly—_

_Oh._

“Oh. You meant...”

His throat went dry. At least seventeen different alarm bells started blaring. He could feel the others watching unabashedly now. He felt like he was about to burst into flames.

“Yeah,” Anzu confirmed. “Like a date.”

This was the worst possible scenario.

 _Okay. Don't panic_ , he thought, panicking. _Just let her down easy. Just say: hey, I'm really sorry, but no thanks._

He opened his mouth to respond, but Anzu beat him to it.

“I mean, it's okay if you don't want to. I know it might be weird considering we only met like a few hours ago, and you might want to get to know me better first, I totally get it. Besides—” she kept going, on and on. He wasn't going to get a word in edgewise if he didn't say something fast.

It was now or never.

_Come on, just tell her you’re sorry. Say, “I'm really sorry.”_

“I'm _really_ gay.”

Anzu cut off immediately. The bar was completely silent, save for a loud snorting sound, followed by, “Ew, what the _hell_ , Jou?” and “That is absolutely disgusting.” Atem fought the urge to jump over the counter and sprint into oncoming traffic.

“I did not mean to say that,” he blurted.

Anzu tilted her head. “You're... _not_ gay?”

“No, I am, but it's— I'm going to start over, okay?”

“Okay.”

It was Atem's turn to take a preparatory breath. “I _meant_ to say, I'm really sorry, Anzu, you seem like a nice person and everything, but—”

“You're really gay.” Anzu was smiling now, just a little. Not to make fun of him. It was a comforting, friendly smile.

“I'm really gay,” he repeated, wearing a tiny smile of his own. “Yeah.”

They both stood staring at each other for a moment.

“Well,” Anzu said, finally breaking the silence. “That was awkward.”

“It sure was.”

“Want to never talk about it again?”

“Please.”

They shook on it, with all the conviction of two CEOs making a business transaction. Then, Anzu marched back to her seat, where Ryou and Yugi were cleaning off the table with what Atem could only guess was the rum that flew out Jou's nose.

 _I’m going to clean that table twice_ , he mused.

“Hey, Atem,” Jou called. “Get back over here, Ryou brought his tarot deck.”

Ryou waved a brightly colored deck into the air, smiling big.

“Just a second,” Atem called back. He mixed himself a quick vodka and tonic before heading back to the table, flipping his chair around to sit in it properly.

Ryou had spread the deck of cards out on the table in a long row, two of them pushed forward. One was a woman and a lion, her hand almost in its mouth, and the other was person kneeling by a lake, pouring water out of a vase, with a bunch of stars above them. Ryou pointed as he explained them, talking right at Yugi like they were the only ones in the room.

“Strength,” he said, about the woman and the lion, “doesn't represent physical strength, but rather your inner strength. It's courage, and often has something to do with conquering your fears, or trusting people.” He pointed to the second card. “The Star is a little more abstract. It can mean having faith in yourself, facing a hard truth, or finding inner peace. It's freedom, really. Combined, I'd say this means you're going to need to face your fears to be truly free.”

Yugi nodded, more to the cards than to Ryou, who took slipped the two cards back into the row. He turned to Atem with a polite smile. “Would you like your fortune told?”

He shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

“Do you know your birth cards?”

“I have no idea what that means.”

Ryou gave him a patient smile. “When's your birthday?”

“July twenty-sixth.”

Ryou looked over the cards for a moment, then pushed forward two more. One was of a tall, white tower with two people falling off. The other was of a person riding in a chariot, two sphinxes at their feet.

“The Tower,” Ryou explained, “represents the ‘ego,’ being destroyed. Sometimes even your whole life falling apart, so you can start again. It’s an awakening of sorts. Your life becomes new and refreshed, and you gain an awareness you never had before.”

Atem took a long swig to avoid snorting sarcastically. _I don't_ feel _any more awakened,_ he thought.

Ryou pointed to the next card. “The Chariot represents victory through controlling your emotions. It's harnessing yourself to the world around you, and doing what needs to be done to make the obstacles get out of your way or disappear. Together, this could mean a lot of things.” He paused for a moment. “But for you, I think it means you have to take control of your life, and your inner self, in order to gain the awareness you need to have a better one.”

That struck a chord he wasn't expecting it to. “Thanks,” he said, absentmindedly thumbing the rim of his glass.

Ryou smiled. “My pleasure. Who's next?”

“Oh, me!” Anzu answered.

Atem zoned out of the fortune-telling session, nursing his drink as he thought. Take control of his life? His inner self? What was that supposed to mean? And all that stuff about obtaining victory through controlling feelings… It just didn't make sense.

Well. The Tower made perfect sense. He'd already had to uproot himself from his life after it all came crashing down around him. Not to mention the rest of his family. His friends. He swallowed the memories that threatened to bubble up – literally, as he sipped his drink. He blinked in surprise as he realized what he was doing.

 _Maybe that's what Ryou was talking about,_ he mused. _Take control of my inner self…_

But how was he supposed to do that? He didn't have the time, money, or sleeping habits to see a therapist, and he didn’t really _want_ to either. Was he just supposed to _hope_ he stumbled across an event that shoved the reigns into his hands?

He shook his head just enough to get the idea out of his brain. He was definitely thinking too hard, and too much – it's not like any of this stuff was _real_. Ryou could have picked two random cards and said literally anything; Atem would never have been the wiser. He knew Ryou did _not_ do that – he didn't seem the type to manipulate people that way – but if he had? Atem's life would still be exactly the same at it always was. That thought comforted him a little. He zoned back in on the table, hoping he hadn't been demonstrably absent.

They were focused mostly on Ryou than anything else, reading off another prediction, this time for Honda. Everyone except Yugi, who was staring at one spot on the table, unmoving, cradling an empty highball glass in his lap. Atem would have asked him if he wanted a refill or the tab, but there was something so haunted in his eyes that he was afraid to say anything. Maybe Ryou’s prediction had gotten to him, too.

“So, you actually believe in this stuff?” Jou asked. Ryou shrugged, gathering up the tarot cards into a deck.

“Jou—” Anzu started, shooting a venomous glare at him out of the corner of her eye.

“I didn’t say it wasn’t _cool_ ,” Jou clarified, sounding a little nervous. “Just. Y’know. Telling the future and stuff is a little…” He trailed off as Anzu gave him another warning look.

Ryou didn’t look the least bit perturbed. “You don’t have to believe in it,” he said. “I understand it’s not for everyone. But it gives me comfort, and my clients tend to agree.”

Atem perked up at that. “Clients? I thought you worked at the museum.”

“I do readings on the side,” Ryou said. “It’s more of a hobby than an occupation. I’ve always liked the metaphysical.”

“And ghosts,” Honda added.

“And ghosts.”

“There are stranger things to believe in,” Atem pointed out.

Jou nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Like the Earth being flat.”

“ _That’s_ the first example you thought of?” Anzu asked, incredulous.

“It’s weird!”

Everyone around the table, except Yugi, still distracted, agreed: flat-Earth theories were pretty weird. Then—

“I think superstitions are weird,” Honda said.

Anzu put her chin in her hand. “Pseudoscience.”

“Government conspiracies,” Ryou added.

“Luck.”

All eyes fell to Atem – even Yugi looked up curiously. The subject of their stares shifted awkwardly in his seat.

“I don’t believe in luck,” he explained.

“Any kind of luck?” Anzu asked. He shook his head.

“What about in a dice game?” Honda pointed out. “That’s _all_ luck.”

“Chance and luck are different,” Atem countered. “If I roll a die, it has a sixteen percent chance of rolling a six. Let’s say I roll the die and it comes up six. Lucky, right? But what if I needed to roll a four? Rolling a six is only ‘lucky’ if I need a six, and ‘unlucky’ if I don’t. No matter what, it has the same chance the whole time.”

His explanation was met with blank stares.

“I don’t get it,” Jou admitted.

 _Yeah people usually don’t_ , is what he would have said, but before he could even open his mouth, the man across the table perked up.

“I do,” Yugi said. The cloudy sadness in his eyes was subdued, and he wore a gentle smile. “Luck is subjective. It’s only good and bad because we say it is.”

“Exactly,” Atem said. “Chance definitely exists, but whether or not you come up on the side of the die you want has nothing to do with some good-or-bad force of nature. And the way you roll the die can increase or decrease the chance of it coming up on the number you want.”

“Chance has nothing to do with luck,” Yugi added, “but luck has everything to do with the way we look at chance.”

Atem gestured toward Yugi with an outstretched hand, a stupidly happy smile on his face. “Perfect. You took the words out of my mouth.”

 _Somebody gets it_ , he thought, almost unable to believe it. _Somebody_ actually _gets it._

The others around the table were looking back and forth between the two of them like they were at a tennis match.

“That’s freaky,” Jou stated.

“It’s like they’re the same person,” Anzu breathed.

Jou sat up and snapped his fingers like he had the revelation of the century. “Hey, Yugi, is the chance thing how you were able to figure out that Atem put the shots back into the same places?”

Yugi shook his head. “Nope. I didn’t use chance at all.”

“Then how’d you do it?”

Yugi’s smile got a little wider, and his eyes hid a glint of amusement. “I just figured if _I’d_ been shuffling them around, putting them back in the same place would be the perfect way to throw off my players.”

Atem returned Yugi’s mirth. “And I figured you would have never turned down the challenge I offered for the same reason.”

“You’re right about that, _but—_ ” Yugi held up a finger “—I didn’t fall for your trap.”

Atem shrugged. “I probably wouldn’t have either.”

Jou made a sound somewhere between a howl and a groan, and threw his head back, rubbing his eyes with his hands. “ _Arrg_ , they even play games the same way! This is the Twilight Zone!”

 The rest of the table laughed at Jou’s expense, and Atem tried to wrap his head around everything that had just happened. He and Yugi were so similar, down to game strategies and hairstyles, which was hard to believe even for him. Hell, he’d hardly believed it when Yugi had walked in wearing his face last week, and now he learned that they had the same _mind_ too? It was…

 _Too good to be true_ , his brain whispered.

As much as he wanted to squash that thought, he couldn’t deny its truth. He hadn’t met anyone who shared his love of games since he lived in Egypt, much less someone who strategized like him. Someone who understood when he said he didn’t believe in luck. Someone who just… _got_ him.

 _That_ earned himself a mental slap. They had met twice in two weeks. Hardly enough time to say Yugi “got,” him in his entirety. Time for a distraction.

Atem checked his watch and almost fell out of his chair – it was 1:36am.

 _How did it get so late_? he thought.

“Something wrong?” Ryou asked gently, probably noticing his shock.

“Nothing’s _wrong_ ,” he assured. “It’s just later than I thought. I’m might have to start closing up shop soon.” 

“Aw, what?” Honda protested, and pulled out his phone. His eyes blew wide when he saw the time. “Oh, yeah it is pretty late.”

“And I’ve got a class in the morning,” Anzu sighed.

Atem deflated at the thought of the night coming to an end. They were all having so much fun. _He_ was having so much fun. More than he had in a while.

“We definitely need to do this again,” Yugi decided.

“We’re open seven days a week,” Atem added, mood instantly picking back up. “I work most nights.”

Jou plunked his elbow on the table and put his palm out expectantly in Atem’s face. “Phone.”

“Phone?”

“Yeah! We all gotta keep in touch, right? To plan another get together.”

The rest of the table nodded, already pulling out their phones. To make friends with him. Because they wanted to see him again. Atem pulled out his own, blinking owlishly at how surreal this night had gotten. Had he just made five new friends in less than _six hours_?

He unlocked his phone and left it on the table, polishing off the rest of his drink and excusing himself to get their tabs in order, while the group was free to add themselves into his contacts. He was pretty sure they wouldn’t fuck with him, and if they did, it wouldn’t bother him at all. In fact, if they cared enough to fuck with him, it would make him even happier.

Ever since moving to Japan, Atem’s social life had remained determinedly stagnant, though he would never say it out loud or in front of Isis. All of the friends he’d made had grown slowly and steadily out of his life, not through any fault of their own. They’d just drifted apart. After weeks turning into months of radio silence, none of his friends had ever cared to stick around. He wasn’t even sure if he could name any of them now. Having an active group of friends again was going to be quite a transition.

Atem brought back the five separate tabs the table had requested at the beginning of the night, his phone sitting face up on the table, off. He set the checks down in a pile and slipping his phone away again.

“Here you are,” he announced, leaning over the table to collect everyone’s empty glasses, reaching around the mass of hands grabbing for their bills and wallets.

“We all texted ourselves from your phone to add your number,” Anzu told him.

“Did you invent blackmail material for yourselves?” he asked, only half-joking.

Yugi slapped his forehead. “Oh, that would have been _such_ a good idea.”

One arm laden with glasses, Atem pointed at his double accusingly. “If you send _anything_ to Isis, I will deny it. You too,” he added to Ryou.

“Don’t worry,” Ryou promised. “We won’t send anything to her.”

That was way too specific. Atem squinted. “Or Marik. _Or_ Rishid.”

“Damn,” Ryou cursed with a smile. “I thought I’d get away with that one.”

“I have been playing mind games with my cousins for too long to fall for that.”

“Yugi introduced me to Rishid,” Jou protested. “He seems really chill.”

Atem whisked up the rest of their glasses. “He and Marik are attached at the hip.”

Jou gave him a sympathetic nod, as well as a debit card on the check tray. Atem picked it up along with the other four being slid toward the end of the table, adjusting the stack of glasses to fit in one hand.

He gestured with the stack of trays. “I’ll have these back to you in just a minute.”

On the way back to the counter, his phone buzzed. He ignored it – probably just Mai demanding details of the night, since it was so close to closing. He’d tell her about it when he got home. Or the next morning. Whenever he felt like the energy was worth spending. She’d hear about it eventually.

He set the stack of glasses carefully with the other dirty ones, and stepped behind the register to ring up the tabs. His phone buzzed. He frowned at it in the pocket of his slacks. _Shh,_ he willed. _I’ll get to you when I get to you_.

He rang up the last of the tabs, and brought the stack back to the table, where everyone was slipping on their coats.

“Well,” he said, “thank you all for coming tonight.”

“Thank you for inviting us,” Ryou replied, as everyone grabbed back their cards and signed their receipts.

“Yeah, it was super cool of you,” Honda agreed.

“And it'll be even _cooler_ the next time,” Jou added, standing up with a fire in his eyes that could only be provided by a mid to heavy buzz. That didn't bode well, for him or the truck.

“Do I need to call a cab for anybody?” Atem asked warily.

Ryou stood up and jangled a keyring. “I'm driving.”

He nodded. “Then I'll let you all get out of here.”

The crowded table stood up, all varying degrees of buzzed, and said their goodbyes. Atem stood inland front of the counter, receipts in hand, and watched them all go to savor the moment for a little while longer.

Yugi was the last one in the procession, and he stopped in front of Atem with several wrinkled bills clutched in his hand.

“We all pitched in for a tip,” Yugi said, handing the money over.

Atem took it graciously, but quirked his eyebrow all the same. “Thank you. But you _can_ just leave it on the table. I promise my eyesight isn't that bad.”

Yugi smiled. “Yeah, I bet, but I also wanted to thank you. Again.”

“For?”

“For turning another bad night around.”

It was only then that Atem recalled what had brought the group to his bar in the first place: the scene at the museum. “Of course,” he blurted. “Why wouldn't I help out?”

“It's not like you had a reason to care You said it yourself: you don't really know much about me.”

 _I'd like to, does that count_? Atem thought, and vehemently refused to say. His phone buzzed several times in his pocket, but he ignored it.

“I don't have to know everything about you to care that you're uncomfortable,” he said instead. “Besides, we're identical in every way. I'm obviously going to help out my other self.”

Yugi laughed. “Other self, huh? I like that.”

Atem couldn't help but laugh along with him. “Other self, partner in crime, whichever.”

A honk from outside drew their attention. Ryou had the awful truck outside, windows rolled down and waving.

“There's my ride,” Yugi said.

“Have a good night,” Atem replied, slipping behind the counter again.

Yugi waved as he walked out. “See you later!” Atem waved back, and watched the beat-up blue truck leave.

His phone buzzed _again_ , and he pulled it out with a frustrated growl, with the intention of promising Mai details _later_ , before putting in on silent until he got home and crashed.

But it wasn’t Mai.

Atem’s eyes widened as he saw the unfamiliar name of a _group chat_ pop up on his phone, with previews of at least half a dozen texts in a row. He opened the chat, and his heart swelled.

 

**Jou has added Atem to “giant h*cking nerd chat (plus anzu is here)”**

 

**Jou 1:41am**

_there we go, welcome 2 the Squad_

 

**Anzu 1:41am**

_Woohoo! Everyone’s together!_

 

**Honda 1:41am**

_so atem how does it feel to be a part of the world nerdiest group chat?_

 

**Yugi 1:42am**

_guys he’s working lol_

 

**Jou 1:42am**

_o shit lol i forgot this was his job_

 

**Jou 1:54am**

_y_

**Jou 1:54am**

_u_

**Jou 1:55am**

_g_

**Jou 1:55am**

_i_

 

**Yugi 1:56am**

_seriously?_

 

Atem smiled and slipped his phone away. Not a bad note to end on.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "but annika," you ask, "how come the shots didn't spill over when he was switching them around?" because i am the author and the laws of physics bend to my will. nothing is real.
> 
> also, will i ever stop making terrible jokes and references? no. never. i cannot be stopped.


	4. From One King to Another

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! sorry for the delay on this one, i've been slammed with homework this month. that and i wrote myself into a corner in this chapter because i wrote in a duel when i have never once played yugioh (the card game) before, and have zero knowledge of how to write one authentically. so i just copied a duel from the show as best i could!
> 
> this chapter gave me a lot of trouble, BUT I FINISHED IT AND THAT'S WHAT COUNTS!! thank you all for sticking with me <3

“And _now_ I'll end my turn.” Yugi stacked his hand together, hiding the cards with the flat of his palm.

“Took you long enough,” Jou mumbled, looking away from the field to slump down into his seat and frown at his hand in concentration.

That was the time all Atem could spare to listen as he set down a tray of drinks in front of a different table across the room, then turned around to clean up another three. He glanced back at the bar to see how many people had lined up, but was relieved to see Ryota keeping them all occupied, probably with stories about one of his many fishing trips. He breathed a sigh of relief.

Thursdays weren’t the busiest days, but there was about two hours every night – from eight to ten – that it got _just_ packed enough to need two people behind the counter. After that, it dropped as dead as any other weeknight. Atem liked to think of it as the calm before the storm, a buildup for Fridays and Saturdays. He guessed the customers thought of it that way, too.

“Oh, come _on_!”

Atem whipped around at the exclamation, fearing an angry customer, but relaxed again when he realized it was only Jou, throwing up his hands in defeat. Again. He sidled over to the table that had turned into a Duel Monsters tournament, and gave the loser a sympathetic pat on the back with the hand that wasn’t keeping the tray aloft.

“You’ll get him next time,” he assured.

“Five times,” Jou said, like he was recounting a war flashback. “He’s beaten me five times in a row.”

He took his hand off Jou's shoulder to glance at his watch. “You’ve only been here an hour.”

Jou glared across the table. “I know.”

Yugi, gathering up his cards with a smile that wasn’t _quite_ sheepish enough to look sorry, shrugged. “You’re relying too much on brute strength.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jou lowered his head onto one of his hands, using the other to take a long swig from a beer bottle on the edge of the table, carefully away from the trading cards. Across the table, Yugi sat primly with a can of soda. His excuse for not ordering alcohol had been to keep his duelist senses sharp, and apparently, it was paying off.

“Need something stronger?” Atem offered.

Jou sighed, gathering up his own cards to reshuffle. “Nah, that’ll make me lose even harder. Thanks, though.”

Atem gestured to the dejected Jou and giving an imploring look to Yugi. “Come on, give the poor guy a break. At least order something with a kick.”

Yugi just shook his head, shuffling his deck with a line of satisfying _thwaps_. “Not a chance.”

“I told you,” Jou said. “He takes dueling really seriously.”

In the explosion of texts from the group chat since he’d been added, Atem could vaguely recall a detail to that effect. “Alright,” he relented, backing up and moving the tray of empty glasses to his other hand. “You know where to find me if you need anything.”

A thumbs up from Yugi and a mumbling affirmative from Jou followed him back to the bar, as he rushed to help Ryota sort out a particularly large bubble of customers about the burst. Even the most thrilling (almost _definitely_ fake) stories about wrestling sharks in the Pacific could only entertain a crowd for so long.

“Are those two playing Duel Monsters over there?” the bigger man asked, once the crowd had become manageable again.

“Sure are,” Atem answered, slipping around his employee’s broad shoulders to grab a shaker.

“Hey,” Ryota started, glancing over at duelists’ table, “is one of those guys—”

“My exact replica?” he finished, pulling together ingredients for another cocktail. “Yeah, kind of, but—”

Ryota cut him off with an incredulous look. “That much is obvious. But isn’t he also the _King of Games_?”

“What?”

“What do you mean ‘ _what’_?”

“I mean _what_ are you talking about?”

“You know the _King of Games_ and you don’t even know what that _means_?”

“Not at all, no.”

Ryota immediately launched into a long-winded explanation as if he’d been waiting all day. It was the thrilling tale of the most intense competitive Duel Monsters scene that his late-teens and early-twenties self was a part of, describing the national upset that a single player, a high schooler named Yugi Mutou, caused in the professional Duelist scene.

“He was the best player anyone had seen in _years_ ,” he explained, stars dancing in his eyes. “He won every tournament he ever competed in, and he beat everyone who ever challenged him – including me, _and_ the national champion. He even beat the creator of Duel Monsters!”

“Wow,” Atem said, genuinely impressed, ice rattling in the shaker as he shook it. “I just thought he was really good.”

In fact, Yugi hadn’t mentioned that he was in the professional scene at _all_. Not even as a throwaway comment when they were discussing Duel Monsters with the group. Actually… _nobody_ had mentioned Yugi’s past dueling experience. _If it was such a huge part of his life_ , he wondered, setting the shaker down on the counter, _why wouldn’t anyone bring it up?_ The very selfish part of his mind whispered, _Why wouldn't they tell me_?

“Professional Duel Monsters lost a star when he quit the pro-scene,” Ryota lamented. “Honestly, no tournament has been the same since.”

Atem looked over to Yugi, still playing against Jou, and by the look on his face, winning. “I’ll bet,” he muttered, mostly to himself. _His professional career is probably why he thinks so strategically_ , he mused. _I wonder if it’s why he likes games._ “Why did he quit?”

“He graduated high school and wanted to work on other things.”

“Huh…”

“It’s weird that you didn’t know about him,” Ryota continued. “I thought you’d be his biggest fan from your haircut alone. _And_ you play Duel Monsters—”

“ _Played_ ,” Atem corrected. “Past tense. I haven’t touched my deck since I hired you.”

Ryota scoffed. “Yeah, but you’re still an _amazing_ player.”

“Again, past tense. It’s been two years. I’m rusty at best, incompetent at worst.”

His words must not have reached Ryota’s ears, because his eyes lit up like a lighthouse in a storm. “I just had a brilliant idea!” he announced.

Atem gave the cocktail a final shake, and strained it into a glass. “Is this ‘brilliant’ idea the same caliber as the one that broke three whiskey bottles and sent your car to the shop for a week?”

Ryota sputtered indignantly. “No, I was _just_ going to suggest you two duel sometime. That would be _amazing_ , right?”

Proffering the prepared cocktail, and secretly desperate for a change of subject, Atem asked, “Can we discuss this later?”

“Oh, yeah. Of course.”

As a slightly deflated Ryota shuffled off to continue doing his job, and Atem passing by to do his own, he couldn't help but continue to wonder about the professional Duel Monsters career that Yugi never spoke about. In the two weeks that Atem had gotten to know his new friends, they'd all brought up the card game multiple times, but not a single one had mentioned that they were friends with the King of Games, or anything about tournaments. It was as if they were intentionally keeping it quiet. Either for Yugi's sake or their own.

 _Maybe something besides graduating happened to him that made him quit_ , he mused. It wasn't completely unheard of. Players of any sport dropped out for personal reasons all the time. Though what might have happened to Yugi as a professional player of card games, Atem couldn't say. It would certainly explain why he didn't like talking about it.

But what about Ryota? Someone with Yugi's prestige would have been followed every minute of the day, and probably had the number of breaths he took in an hour documented on some creepy website. If there was a reason he’d quit that was different than what he stated, it would have been noted – at least speculated. And considering the kind of fan Ryota seemed to be, he would have definitely told Atem about the weird conspiracy theories.

 _Maybe it was the fame?_ he continued to himself, outwardly engaged in his job, but internally trying to figure out the puzzle that was Yugi's mysterious past. _I'd quit too if I had random strangers come up to me on the street and ask for an autograph._

The more he thought about it, the more he realized that didn't make sense either. If Yugi was really concerned about keeping a low profile, staying unrecognizable, he would have changed his hair. That was really it. If Atem's hair looked like a fan imitation to Ryota, there's no way people wouldn't recognize Yugi's distinctive cut, and the guy whose face it belonged to.

 _Maybe it really_ was _just graduation,_ he conceded. If Yugi went to college, that would definitely be a reason to quit dueling professionally. University would have eaten up a lot of his time, and he wouldn't have time to focus on both and do either of them well. Maybe the easier answer was the correct one after all.

No, there _had_ to be a better reason. Yugi's friends never hesitated to chide him for being modest, and often bragged _for_ him about his accomplishments. They wouldn't not mention something like this unless he asked them not to, or they knew something Atem didn't.

He went around in circles, trying to piece together a reason for Yugi to be so secretive about his past career, but every idea came up a fluke. Too convenient, not realistic enough, out of character, just plain _stupid_.

 _Maybe he had a fight with someone_ , his desperate mind supplied, but he quickly dismissed the thought with a snort. _That_ was the dumbest idea he'd had all night. Professionals all over the place disagreed all the time, and it wasn’t usually a career-ender.

But rumors _did_ tend to fly in those sorts of scenes, and it wouldn’t be difficult for a particularly bitter rival to spread rumors about a competitor, especially a competitor that was a teenager. Maybe the idea wasn’t as dumb as he thought.

The way his friends acted when he was upset at the museum, it wouldn't be a long shot to say that if Yugi didn't want to see, hear, or think about someone ever again, they would be sure to do everything in their power to make that happen. So if Yugi's previous career had something to do with a person he wanted to avoid thinking about at all costs, then of _course_ they wouldn't mention it until he gave them permission. That must have been it.

 _Well_ , he decided, _if they aren't going to talk about it, I won't talk about it either._

Then, he resisted the urge to freeze in place as he wondered, _What the hell am I_ doing _?_

He was coming up with conspiracy theories about his new friend based on something that one of his employees had told him, which may or may not have been kept secret from him. If it was, it was probably for good reason, and it might just be a random coincidence if it wasn't.

 _Why can't you Just. Think. Normal. Things?_ he demanded his brain. Predictably, he offered himself no reply. He sighed and continued working, exasperated at his own train of thought.

But he shouldn't be surprised anymore. When it came to Yugi, everything was a spiraling rabbit hole that he would willingly jump down again and again. The tiniest things would send him reeling, strategizing his next move in a game that didn't exist, doing his best to be a good friend, while trying to remember what that _meant_. It made him feel like he was constantly walking on eggshells, even though nothing indicated that Yugi disliked him, or had any problems with being them friends whatsoever. It was all in his head, none of his random fears had come to pass, and being kept out of the loop of  _one_ event wasn't going to make or break their friendship. So why did this always happen?

Well, he knew _why_. It was still stuck on his fridge with a cheap, wine-bottle-shaped magnet.

“Hey, Atem?” Ryota's voice asked, cutting through his thoughts.

He retreated from a particularly rowdy table, tray under his arm, back to the counter where Ryota was standing with his thumb jutted out toward the door in a silent question. Atem checked his watch -- it was ten on the dot.

“Get out of here,” he said, shoving the giant man good-naturedly. “Have a good night.”

“You too,” Ryota replied, and slipped out from behind the counter.

Atem returned to work without a second thought, skating down to where he could feel people's eyes trying to get his attention. The tiny rush had been on the decline for at least a half hour, so the rest of the night was going to be smooth sailing. Smooth, sleep-inducing sailing.

That is, it was supposed to be, until he made the mistake of glancing out the corner of his eye and saw Ryota, who had _not_ gone home, clearly having a conversation with – _Oh, you have_ got _to be kidding me_. – Yugi and Jou, the duelists’ cards stacked up in their decks on their respective sides of the table. Ryota started gesturing at Atem enthusiastically from across the room, and the other two turned to look. He couldn’t hear much of what they were saying, but two distinctive words jumped out at him: “player,” and “duel.” Yugi and Jou looked over at him from their table, and he waved a little before going right back to work, while attempting not to plant his face on the counter. 

Ryota certainly knew how to take initiative, he’d give him that. He wasn’t just going to let Atem weasel out of this one. Despite the fact that he hadn’t even _looked_ at his deck in years, much less played a game, or tested his skills against a former _national champion_. Or even against anyone professionally at all!

He just played for fun when he was in school. Every Egyptian kid that attended a school knew about Duel Monsters – the card game _very_ loosely based on a strategic game of their history. There would be lines around the block for new cards, and Atem’s favorite history teacher used them in her lessons to keep all the unruly students engaged. Then he moved, and…

He grit his teeth and stared very intently at the selection of rum lined up on the back wall, despite having forgotten which one he was looking for. It started with a, “B,” so it was probably Bacardi. He plucked the bottle out of the row and hoped it was right.

Turning around, he found Ryota leaning on the bar, propped up on his elbows so far forward Atem thought he was trying to climb over the counter.

“Can I help you?” he asked, making a deliberate show of preparing the current order.

“Actually,” Ryota said, puffing out his chest proudly, “I think I’ve just helped _you_.”

“Oh, really?”

“If you don’t believe me, talk to them yourself.” Ryota threw his thumb over his shoulder at Yugi and Jou, cards apparently put away for the evening.

“About?” He set a highball on the counter with a _clink_.

“About Duel Monsters, obviously.”

“Didn’t I say we would talk about this later?”

“It is later!”

“I meant when neither of us are on the clock. And as you can see—” Atem held the glass up like he was presenting it on a game show,   “—that makes one of us.”

Ryota removed his arms from the counter and crossed them over his chest. “Fine, fine, I need to be getting home anyway. But you should still talk to them about it.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Think about it _faster_ ,” Ryota called as he made his way toward the door.

“No promises,” Atem said, not loud enough for his exiting employee to hear. He finished off the rum and tonic with a lime wedge and a cocktail straw, and slipped around the counter to deliver it.

He’d only just set the drink down when he saw a waving hand in his peripheral vision. He turned to address the person the hand belonged to and saw Jou. He sidled over to the table, praying he’d be able to avoid the inevitable conversation.

“What do you need?” he asked.

“I need a goodbye, my friend,” Jou explained, his waving hand turning swiftly into a proffered fist bump. Atem obliged, bumping his hand with Jou’s and both of them wiggling their fingers in a mock explosion. “I have that job interview in the morning.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” Atem said, remembering an exited series of single-word texts in the group chat from Jou, and about a million confetti emojis from Anzu. “I’ll get you the check so you can get out of here.”

Jou opened his mouth, but was swiftly cut off.

“Nope,” Yugi interrupted. “That’ll be for me.”

“Come _on_ , Yug’,” Jou protested.

“I already told you, it’s my ‘good luck’ present.”

“That’s not a thing.”

“It is now.”

Atem nudged Jou with a tiny shake of the head. “How likely is it that you’ll win this argument?”

“Not very,” Yugi said.

Jou looked between his nearly-identical friends and stood up, defeated. “Alright, jeez. But next time! Next time it’s on me.”

“Goodnight, Jou,” Yugi replied simply, waving.

“And good luck tomorrow,” Atem added.

Jou called his thanks as he headed out, and as the door swung shut, Atem asked Yugi, “Is it also an apology for demolishing him so hard tonight?”

“I didn’t ‘demolish’ him. He’s a good duelist in his own right.”

That sentence was unfinished. “But?” he pressed.

“But it’s _also_ because I demolished him.”

They shared a small moment of laughter before Atem remembered he had a job to do. “Speaking of demolished, do you want something stronger than carbonated water and syrup? Or are you heading out as well?”

“What time is it?”

“About...ten-fifteen-ish.”

“The bill, I think.” Yugi sighed so heavily Atem expected him to start pouting. Something in his gut clenched at the sight of him so upset.

Then, the gears started to turn. Against his will, he was reminded of Ryota's enthusiasm and his own theories. What if Ryota was talking about their Dueling history? What if he said something that Yugi didn't like talking about?

“Something wrong?” he asked. “I saw Ryota over here earlier, and if he gave you two any trouble—”

Yugi's eyes went wide in alarm. “Oh, no, not at all! It was great seeing him again, I had no idea he was still in town.”

Atem almost asked how good a duelist Ryota had been back in the day, but then remembered he wasn't supposed to know that. “Again?”

Yugi chewed on his lip. “I was...a bit of a competitive duelist when I was in high school. We were in a couple brackets against each other, but it's been _years_ since I thought about that.” His voice grew wistful, even melancholy, like he was remembering a fond past life. He shook head a little and smiled. “Anyway, it was really cool catching up with him.”

That didn't answer his original question, but he decided to roll with it anyway. “I knew Ryota was into Duel Monsters, but I never pictured him as a competitive player. With how he talks about the game, I guess I should have seen it coming.”

“Does he still play?”

Atem almost scoffed. “He challenged me to a duel the minute he found out I used to play.”

Yugi laughed. “Yep, sounds like Ryota. Or, _Mako Tsunami,_ I should say.”

“He had a _stage name_?”

“Oh, plenty of people did. And most of them were a _lot_ dumber.”

“Did you have one?” _And was it the King of Games_?

Yugi shook his head. “Nope. I was just Yugi Mutou.”

 _Fair enough_ , Atem supposed. “Do _you_ still play?” he asked. “Competitively, I mean. Obviously, you still play.” _Smooth._

“I quit when I graduated. Now it's all just for fun.” Yugi leaned forward a little, folding his arms on the table. “What about you?”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you said Ryota challenged you when he found out you played.”

“When I _used_ to play,” he corrected, for the third time that night. “It's been years. I'm about as professional a duelist as I am a track star.”

“That's funny,” Yugi said, the cadence of his voice becoming more emphasized, “because when _Ryota_ was talking to _me_ , he said that _you_ , despite not having played in _years_ , wiped the _floor_ with him. Easily, he said.”

Yugi's face and voice were completely casual, but Atem knew the truth: he just walked directly into a trap. Damn his empathy for falling for such a blatant Sad Yugi Sigh!

“And that happened _two years_ ago,” he pointed out, trying to find an escape. “I haven't looked at a card since.”

“He also said you would say that.”

 _Of course he did._ “I promise, I'm not worth your time at this game.”

“Prove it.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Prove it,” Yugi repeated. All pretense of innocence was dropped for the look of a man who knew he'd already won. “If you're as bad as you say you are, fine. But I want to see for myself.”

He was going to have to tread carefully now. “Why do you care?”

“Because I don't believe you.”

“That much is obvious. But why do you want to play me so badly?”

Yugi's eyes flashed with panic for a split-second before returning to cool and in control. “Can't I just want to play a game with a friend?”

Atem stopped short of rolling his eyes. “That's not true and you know it.”

Yugi conceded that point quickly. “Maybe I just want to play against someone other than Jou. Maybe I want to flex my competition muscles again.”

“And if it turns out I'm just as bad as I say?”

“Then you take the ‘I Told You So’ prize. But if you're actually good, then _I_ get bragging rights.”

Atem crossed his arms. “What if I say I don't want to duel you?”

A smile crawled up Yugi's face as he echoed, “That's not true and you know it.”

And, dammit, he did know it. Especially after being challenged outright. But…

He needed to stall for time.

“I'll get you the check,” he deflected.

Yugi leaned back into his chair, clearly satisfied. “I'll be here.”

Atem scrunched up his face in concentration as he headed back to the bar to ring up both Jou's and Yugi's orders. He had to come up with _something._

Honestly, he knew he wasn't as bad as he made himself out to be. He'd been the best in his high school, and he _had_ beaten Ryota pretty easily that time. But he still hadn't played in years, and Yugi was constantly keeping his skills sharp. He was already at a disadvantage.

But so was Yugi. Sure, he expected Atem to be better than bad, but he didn't know _how_ good. He had never seen his deck before, and Atem already had a good idea of what Yugi's strategies were like from watching him play against Jou.

But _, again_ , it took all of his concentration to keep up with what was going on in the duels he watched. He could barely remember his _own_ deck, much less all the rules and how to counter which strategies, and it's not like he could relearn it all in a weekend. His cards were buried at the back of his closet, gathering dust. He'd lose harder than ever if he actually attempted to go up against Yugi.

 _Lose,_ he realized. _That's it_.

He wasn't supposed to win. Winning was losing and losing was winning. If he won the duel, Yugi would be the one who would be able to walk away with the real prize: being right. And if there was anything more satisfying than being right, it was _proving_ you were right.

 _Game on, Yugi_ , he thought _. Game on._

He returned to the table with confidence, setting the check tray down and saying, “If you want a duel, you have one.”

Yugi smiled brightly, reaching for the check. “Awesome!”

Yugi reached into his wallet, set a couple of bills on the tray, but he didn't hand it back. Instead, he stood up, stepped _extremely_ close to Atem, and held it out for him to take.

Atem reached up to take the check instinctively as the rest of him panicked, breath caught in his throat, standing ramrod straight. He was warm to the tips of his ears, and if his vocal cords hadn't stopped working, he'd sound like a kettle boiling over. He tried not to think about how Yugi smelled (lavender and fabric softener), or how Yugi was just a _little_ taller than him, or how he could see the reflection of the fluorescent lights in his eyes, or --

“Does Tuesday work for you?” Yugi asked, casual, as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on.

Atem snapped back to reality. “I work on Tuesday.”

Yugi's quiet laugh sent an electric shock down his spine. “Perfect. We won't even need to pick a spot.”

He was seeing the birds fly around his head like in cartoons. This was what the the Confused status in Pokémon felt like. “Okay,” he agreed, not knowing what exactly he was agreeing to.

Yugi's hand slipped off the check tray. He stepped back to a reasonable distance and waved. “See you then!”

Atem watched -- wide-eyed, still flushed, and unable to move an inch -- as Yugi left without another word. The door opened and shut, taking Yugi with it. He still hadn't moved.

 _What...just happened_?

 

 

The weekend flew by for Atem, with his mornings on Friday and Saturday trying to find his cards, remember what they did, and figure out what a good deck was, and his nights taken up with the busiest time for any bar in any city on the planet. After taking Sunday to recover from Saturday's 5am close, it was a shock for him to roll out of bed on Monday morning and remember he only had one more day to pretend like he knew what he was doing.

A few minutes after contemplating that, he found himself sitting on the floor of his room, every beat-up, dusty card spread out and easily visible so he could re-assemble his deck for the third time. Just to be safe.

 _This is the last time,_ he told himself _. I'm not going to remake it tomorrow._

He knew he'd keep that promise, mostly because he wouldn't have nearly enough time before his shift to build it. It had taken him almost two cumulative hours to build his deck the first time, and he'd only been spending more and more time debating with himself since then.

Well, first thing's first. The Dark Magician. Atem plucked the card out of the sea of cards on the carpet, holding it up to his face with a bittersweet smile. It was one of the first cards he ever knew about -- thanks to Mahad, who loved the Dark Magician so much he made a costume from _scratch._ There was no way he was building his deck without it. He set it off to the side, the beginning of a separate pile, and returned to eyeing the other cards.

One down, thirty-nine to go.

Surprisingly enough, he was able to get a better sense of what he wanted out of his deck the third time around, and was quickly adding a discarding cards with an actual strategy in mind. It was almost frightening, having a plan and _ideas_ after re-learning every rule two days prior. Like he was awakening the duelist that lived inside him all along. _That is the corniest thing I've ever thought in my life_ , he added immediately afterward.

On card twenty-nine out of forty, his phone chirped from across the room. He stood up from the slightly depleted army of Duel Monsters to answer the text with a simple, “Sorry, I'm busy” because he didn't feel like dividing his concentration between his deck and a conversation...until the preview gave him pause.

 

 **New Message:** **Yugi**

_don't forget to bring your deck tomorrow!_

 

He swiped open the message and weighed his options. Building his deck and having a conversation _with Yugi_ might not be so bad. Plus, it might give him a chance to draw out some last-minute information about his strategies.

That was what he told himself as he brought his phone back to his place on the floor, surrounded by cards, and replied to Yugi as he sat down.

 

**Atem 1:33pm**

_get ready to face my kuriboh-based deck and cower_

 

**Yugi 1:34pm**

_oh man i might have to adjust my strategies for that one_

 

**Yugi 1:34pm**

_kuriboh too strong_ _ᕙ_ _(_ _⇀_ _‸_ _↼_ _‶_ _)_ _ᕗ_

 

Atem put down the card he was holding to respond, and made a mental tally mark at the sight of one of Yugi's emoticons. He’d started a game with himself to see how many were used in a single conversation. The highest he'd gotten so far was eight, which didn’t seem like much, but the conversation had been fifteen messages. Total.

 

**Atem 1:34pm**

_speaking of strategy, how the hell do you play this game again_

 

He put down his phone and steepled his fingers in front of his mouth like a supervillain. _If I were a master duelist_ , he thought, _what kind of deck would I want_?

One that could win, obviously, but there was more to it than just throwing a bunch of high-power monsters at your opponent and calling it a day. It all came back to the mind-games he loved so much, placing a card face down and having three more surprises lined up in a row, as you watch to see if your opponent can guess your strategy correctly, and playing accordingly. Lining up attacks two and three steps ahead, having a back-up plan for your back-up plan. Watching them watch you think, contradicting your own playstyle to throw people off.

At least, that’s what the _masters_ did. That’s what someone like Yugi would be doing to _him_. The thought made him twitch.

 _I have to lose the duel to win the_ actual _game_ , he reminded himself. _So it doesn’t actually matter how good my deck is._

But he didn’t want to lose! That was the kicker. The thought of purposefully losing the duel when he knew he could do perfectly well otherwise drove him crazy. Trying to find the balance between a good deck that also wasn’t _too_ good, so he could reasonably lose while still trying his hardest to _win_ , was positively agonizing.

His phone buzzed next to him, and he gratefully accepted the distraction.

 

**Yugi 1:37pm**

_easy! git gud_ _≖_ _‿_ _≖_

 

**Atem 1:37pm**

_wow. you’re a life saver. i feel my skills increasing._

 

**Yugi 1:37pm**

_i learned from the best, and i pass this knowledge to you. use it well, my student_

 

**Yugi 1:37pm**

_but seriously, just have fun! it’s just a game, y’know?_ _｡_ _◕_ _‿_ _◕_ _｡_

 

Atem made two more invisible tally marks, and rolled his eyes. As if.

 

**Atem 1:38pm**

_you say that, but forget the prize you offered to the winner:_

**Atem 1:38pm**

_bragging rights_.

 

**Atem 1:38pm**

_those are high stakes, yugi_

 

He put his phone down, planning to add a few magic cards to buff up the Dark Magician or something, but a holographic card caught the corner of his eye. The card, somehow having slid nearly under the bed, was one he hadn’t even considered putting in his deck. He picked it up anyway, if only to marvel at how amazing it looked, even after all this time.

The Sky Dragon Osiris, printed on the fanciest cardstock money would allow, shimmered in the light, its holographic background creating a rainbow effect that shifted as Atem looked the card over with the wonder of his eleven-year-old self. The dragon, two mouthed, red, and menacing, blasted a blue laser from its mouth, twisting its elongated body like snake. Hands down, the best card he owned. When he played regularly, it was his trump card. He hadn’t lost a single game with it in his deck. And he was the only person he knew who had ever beaten it.

It was _way_ too good to go in this supposed-to-lose deck.

He sighed and put it in the discard pile. “Maybe some other time, buddy,” he told it. It almost broke his heart to take Osiris out of the shoebox he’d been keeping all his cards in, in darkness for literally years, only for it to be completely discarded the moment it saw the light. He slowly took the card back, setting in front of him to be a consistent “maybe” card.

He heard his phone buzz.

 

**Yugi 1:39pm**

_maybe i was just trying to lull you into a false sense of security_

 

**Atem 1:39pm**

_you’ll have to do a little better than that to trip me up, wise guy_

 

**Yugi 1:39pm**

_what, like on thursday night? that wasn’t hard at all_ (¬‿¬)

Atem nearly chucked his phone away, dropping it like it had suddenly burned his hands, sputtering at the memory of _that_ part of the night as it was violently shoved to the forefront of his mind by his supremely unhelpful brain. He stared at the offending message with an expression somewhere between scandalized and embarrassed denial, flushed from head to toe.

How the hell did Yugi know that would _work_? Why was he proud of it? Did he do it on _purpose_?

 _He did that on purpose,_ he repeated to himself. The gears turned in his head, and his face went from embarrassed to angry. _He did that on purpose! Son of a—_

Nostrils flaring, still flushed – from anger or embarrassment was a mystery, even to him – he sat up straight in defiance and snatched his phone from where he dropped it. He poised his fingers to type several _colorfully_ _worded_ messages back to Yugi, but stopped before he could type the letter of the first expletive. Instead, he wrote something a little more reasonable.

 

**Atem 1:40pm**

_…………you’re going down_

 

**Yugi 1:40pm**

_pffft_

 

**Yugi 1:40pm**

_best of luck ;)_

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Atem muttered. He put his phone back down and turned to the remainder of his cards. Osiris gleamed up at him.

He picked up the powerful card, weighing his options, deciding whether or not it was worth it if he added it into his deck. On the one hand, this card would guarantee him the win as long as Yugi didn’t figure out how to beat it, or didn’t have the _cards_ to beat it, which would mean he would “lose” the Being-Right-Contest. On the _other_ , he could kick Yugi in the teeth with a badass card as revenge for Thursday. And still lose. But also _win_.

Losing, or revenge.

Losing. Or revenge.

Losing.

Or _revenge_.

Atem smiled at Osiris. “Welcome to the team.”

 

 

The duel so far had been going to opposite of well. Or maybe it was going extremely well. Whichever it was, the point was that Atem was losing. Big time.

He’d expected it, to be fair, at least in the beginning. Yugi _was_ a professional for a little while, there was no way he was going to match up to that on his first duel in two years. But even still, packing away _another_ monster into the Graveyard, and having barely made a scratch on Yugi at all, he was surprised at how fast it had actually happened.

“Well,” he sighed, blowing out his cheeks, “looks like it’s true.”

“What’s true?” Yugi asked, looking up from his deck, no doubt already plotting his next move.

Atem drew another card, and looked at his opponent with a wry smile. “You’re going to kick my ass.”

“Who told you that?”

“Jou, when I told him this would be happening tonight. He sent me a coffin emoji and bouquet emoji.”

Yugi held his cards to his chest as he laughed. “Oh man, he would. Is that all he said?”

“There was also a skull emoji.”

“Ouch.”

Atem nodded. “I thought he’d have more faith in me.”

“He’s disillusioned.”

“Thanks to you, I’m sure?”

Yugi shrugged, holding his cards like a fan to hide part of his face. “Perhaps.”

Atem snorted and returned to grinding his teeth together to try and figure out what he was supposed to _do_. He was glad the bar had essentially cleared out after ten-thirty so he could focus on the task at hand, instead of having to run back and forth from the bar to the table Yugi had commandeered for their game. They had the idea to play at the counter, but there hadn’t been enough space for both sides to play, or the “virgin Screwdriver” Yugi had ordered (Atem had rolled his eyes when he requested the drink; it was just a glass of orange juice).

His hand wouldn’t help him much. He didn’t have a monster powerful enough to take on both of Yugi’s monsters – Beta the Magnet Warrior and Gazelle the King of Mythical Beasts – at the same time and he didn’t really want to find out what was under that face down card, either. So what _could_ he do here?

 _I can just do what Marik did_ , he reasoned. _More or less_.

It…wasn’t a terrible plan. He could reverse his own strategy. Play tough instead of safe. He _did_ inherit most of Marik’s cards when his cousin stopped playing Duel Monsters, and it would certainly surprise Yugi, if nothing else. Maybe even buy him some time. He knew Osiris was in his deck somewhere – but could he survive long enough to get in his hand? Not if Yugi attacked – that’s for sure. Nearly half his Life Points were toast, thanks to a terrible few rounds. But it might just work, if he played his cards right (ha). All he needed to do was stall for time, and this was the perfect way to do it.

“Alright,” he said, straightening in his chair a little. “My turn.”

Maybe he was talking fast, or maybe it was just the thrill of feeling like he knew what he was doing, but Atem suddenly found himself playing the cards as he said them, as if he’d rehearsed the round countless times. Before knew it, he had his plan laid out on the table and in his mind – Revival Jam in attack, and Jam Breeding Machine standing by. Nightmare’s Steel Cage waiting in the wings. He could do this.

“Your move,” he said, leaning back in his chair. _Please let me live until I can find Osiris_ , he pleaded with whatever trading card god existed.

Yugi stared innocently at the new cards on the table, but despite his impressive poker face, Atem could almost hear the gears in his head turning. He was trying to figure out what Atem had in store. But he was missing one important piece of information. One red, dragon-shaped piece of information.

“I’ll,” Yugi started, then paused. “I’m going to Tribute these two.” He replaced his two monster cards with Buster Blader, and called his attack. Atem was extremely glad Revival Jam reset itself in Defense. He was barely hanging on as-is.

“I don’t get why jam is invincible in this game,” Yugi mused, as Atem readied his next move. “It’s just mashed up fruit.”

“It’s not regular jam, though,” Atem said, pointing out the tiny symbol at the top of the card. “It’s made of water or something.”

“That makes even less sense.”

“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. Ask Pegasus Crawford.”

“Totally.” He mimed writing a letter in the air with his free hand. “Dear Mister Crawford. I’m a big fan of your game. I’m writing to ask you what planet you come from where jam is made of water, not fruit, and is impervious to almost every attack. Please respond. Love, Yugi Mutou.” He drew a little heart in the air.

“You send _love_ to Crawford?” Atem asked. “I’m positive I didn’t spike that orange juice, so what are you on?”

“He invented my favorite game!”

“Yeah, a game he was suspected to be _cheating at_.”

“That investigation was inconclusive,” Yugi said, waving his hand dismissively, “and he still _lost_ that tournament. I’d rather give him the benefit of the doubt.”

“Alright, it’s your dignity.”

Yugi’s mouth dropped open in mock-offense. “Wow. How will I ever recover?”

“A stiff drink?”

“Ha-ha. Just take your turn already.” He picked up his glass of juice and took a long draught.

“Okay, I’m going.”

And he was. He was _going_. He activated the Breeding Machine to give himself a token, then slapped down the Cage. He drew a card.

It was Osiris.

He couldn’t believe it. He actually drew the card he wanted. He might _win_ this.

 _Okay, calm down_ , he told himself. _You haven’t even played the card yet._

“That’ll end my turn,” he announced. “Your move.”

Yugi draw a card. “Okay then. I’ll pass.”

“You sure?”

“I can’t really do much here.”

“Okay, well. My turn again.”

He got another token. He drew another card. _Jam Defender,_ _perfect_!

On Yugi’s turn, he set another card face down, and ended his turn. The Cage was discarded, and the moment of truth finally arrived.

It was time to summon Osiris.

“These three tokens,” Atem explained, trying not to look to excited, “I’m going to Tribute in order to summon _this_.”

He slapped down The Sky Dragon Osiris, and Yugi’s eyes bulged so hard they almost popped out of his head. Atem couldn’t resist a prideful smile.

“Is that…?” he murmured.

“It sure is. And then I’m going to set _this_ face down.” He set down Jam Defender, and folded his arms on the table. “Your move.”

Yugi blinked, hard. “Uh? I guess I’ll attack.”

Atem was _preening_ , and he knew it. “Except you just activated my trap.” He flipped over the Jam Defender and watched Yugi curse at himself. “So now you get to attack my Jam again.” Everything was falling into place. Is this what Marik had felt like? Because it felt _awesome_.

The duel continued to make him feel awesome, as Yugi found out the hard way how Osiris’ special abilities worked, and Atem remembered what being in school and winning everything with Osiris was like. He remembered winning it from Marik in the first place, and watching his younger cousin’s face screw up with surprise, indignation, and finally the cool, quiet anger he was so well known for in the family. Using the same method he won the card with to dethrone Yugi felt almost like poetic justice

When he had both Infinite Cards and Card of Safe Return in play, he almost guaranteed his own win right there. Yugi couldn’t hit him, and Osiris would wipe out anything he had. But his opponent just _wouldn’t_ give up.

“You better have a fantastic plan up your sleeve,” Atem mused. _Please don’t have a fantastic plan up your sleeve._

Yugi stuck out his tongue like a preschooler, then drew a card, looked at it. And one of his eyebrows lifted about one-sixteenth of an inch. Atem swallowed.

He’d been watching Yugi’s facial expressions for the entire duel, to try and catch a tell, something in the ex-professional’s poker face that would reveal his disposition. And that specific eye-brow lift he’d only seen one other time: when he thought he’d won.

 _If he drew the card I hope he didn’t_ , Atem prayed, _I’m completely toast._

As if reading his mind, Yugi’s brow relaxed, and was replaced with an easy smile. A confident smile. _Too_ confident.

“I’m going to play Brain Control,” Yugi announced, slapping down the card. “And take that Jam of yours, if you don’t mind. Then, I’ll play Monster Reborn to bring back my Buster Blader that you destroyed. And now I’ll _attack_ —”

As the first example of the infinite loop Atem himself had created so many years ago threatened to repeat itself, he set down his cards and lifted his hands in surrender.

“You win,” he conceded. “Good game.”

Yugi gave him a quizzical look. “You’re giving up?”

Atem shook his head. “I’m preserving my dignity. I know how this is going to end.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Infinite loop until I Deck Out and you win by default. It’s how I did it.”

Yugi furrowed his brows. “How… _you_ did it?”

Atem picked up the glittering Osiris, face toward Yugi. “This was Marik’s card. He promised it to me if I beat him in a duel, and I used—” he gestured to Yugi’s side of the field, Brain Control still active, “—this exact strategy to beat him.”

“The Brain Control thing?”

“Exactly the one. I might have stolen a _bit_ of his strategy for this game, but it clearly didn’t work out as well as I thought it would.”

Yugi, collecting his cards from the table, shrugged. “You really had me going there for a while.”

Gathering his own cards, Atem sighed dramatically. “Yes, but I _lost_. However shall I break the news?”

“What?”

He flopped back into his chair, with a hand pressed to his forehead in a comic show of despair. “That for all your belief in me, I wasn’t a  good enough duelist to _beat_ you. I suppose this means—” he lifted his hand away to reveal a foxlike grin, “—I won.”

“You won, did you?” Yugi repeated, nonchalantly stacking his deck on the table, straightening the cards so they all lined up perfectly. He tsk-ed and shook his head. “I think you’re missing a very important piece of information.”

“And what’s that?”

“I _never_ said that if you _lost_ you’d win the argument. I said that if you turned out to be _good at Duel Monsters_ , you’d be able to claim you were right.”

Atem sat up fully, preparing to plead his case. “But I lost.”

“You lost, sure, but it was only because I drew the _one_ card in my deck that could have stopped that insane strategy you put together.” Yugi crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. He had his familiar _I-Won-And-You-Know-It_ look on. “Face it, Atem. You’re a good duelist.”

 _He...thinks I'm a good duelist?_ he thought, in awe at the compliment. Then stopped, and realized, _Hey, he's trying to make me give up my win!_

“You— You can't just compliment me,” Atem sputtered. “Without my _permission_!”

“I can and I will!”

“Blasphemous!” Atem slammed his hand on the table. “I won't stand for it. Not while I reign as Pharaoh.”

Yugi pressed his hand to his chest, sitting up in a regal position. “Despite your claims, I believe you are _hopelessly_ outmatched in this battle of wits.”

Atem spread his arms in a grandiose gesture. “Ah, yes, the King of Egypt versus the King of Games.”

 _Shit_ , he thought as soon as the words were out of his mouth. _I'm not supposed to know about that_.

He saw Yugi's face go through a marathon of emotions across the table. “How did you--?”

“Ryota told me,” he blurted, dropping his act immediately for an apologetic reply. “I'm sorry, he was talking about your professional history, and I figured you hadn't mentioned it because you didn't like talking about it, so I wasn't going to say anything, but--”

“Whoa, slow down,” Yugi said, looking more taken aback than anything else. “I'm not _mad_ or anything.”

“You're not?”

Yugi sucked in his cheeks. “I mean, you were right about me... _not_ liking to mention that point in my life. Not that you did anything wrong,” he quickly added. “I'm more surprised that you didn't recognize me the minute we met each other. Everyone else seems to. But this isn't _un_ expected. It was inevitable, eventually you'd find out. I'd rather you know me first as Yugi instead of the ‘King of Games.’” He made dramatic air quotes around the title.

“Oh. If it makes you feel better, the title didn't mean anything to me until after Ryota explained your entire dueling history. If anything, I'm impressed that my friend Yugi is so good at Duel Monsters that he was crowned king of all games.”

Yugi laughed a bit. “Thanks. I'm glad you think so.”

They were both silent for a spell. Atem fussed with his cards for something to do with his hands. When it was getting unbearable, he broke the silence.

“Should I not mention it anymore?” he asked.

Yugi shrugged. “It's not a big deal. I'm not traumatized or anything like that, but…” he trailed off with a sigh. “I was in a bad place in high school. When I was dueling. I'm a lot better now, but professional dueling just kind of made everything a _lot_ worse.”

A teenager, going through teenager stuff, while also having to balance being a professional card game player? Yeah, Atem could see how that would pile on eventually. Not to mention how famous Yugi got _in addition_ to everything else. Atem knew how that felt, in the worst _possible_ way, and would not be recommending it anytime soon.

“Don’t worry,” he promised, pretending to zip his lips and throw away the key. “Won’t say another word.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.”

“Don’t worry about it. Everyone’s entitled to keep things to themselves. It’s practically human nature.”

“That’s a little pessimistic.”

“Is it? I don’t think I’ve met a single person who didn’t have some kind of skeleton in their closet, even if it was something minuscule. I don’t think it’s _bad_ that people keep stuff from each other. It’s just privacy.”

Yugi thought on this, then nodded. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Atem pointed accusingly. “Ha! You admitted I was _right_!”

Yugi rolled his eyes, fighting back a smile. “You are absolutely ridiculous.”

“And _right_.”

“Hey, Mister Right, what time is it?”

With an elaborate flourish, that was most _certainly_ unnecessary, he brought the golden watch to his face. “It’s approximately eleven forty-five.”

Yugi sucked in a breath through his teeth. “A little late for me. I’m going to have to call it a night.”

He stood up from the table, draining the rest of his orange juice, and pocketing his deck. Atem stood up with him, not really knowing what else to do. His _job_ , eventually. But that was _after_ Yugi left.

The inhibitor of his job shot him a polite smile. “We should totally duel more often.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Maybe I’ll even win one of these days.”

“You wish.”

“One of these days!”

They shared a little laugh together. Then, not really knowing how to end the night, Atem put out a hand to shake. Yugi stared at it, then gave him a _look_.

“What is this, a business meeting?” Yugi asked.

“Uh—”

Before he could think of a reasonable explanation, Yugi had stepped forward and pulled him into a hug. Atem froze solid, eyes wide, shocked that the room had somehow become fifteen degrees hotter. He forced his stiff arms to give Yugi a hug that was just shy of being a serious case of hover hands. A transcript of his thoughts sounded a little something like: _Oh my God? Oh my God, this is happening, what do I do, is this too much, I have no idea what I’m doing_ —

“We’re friends right?” Yugi said, finally pulling back with a bright smile.

Atem blinked owlishly, trying to remember how to process words. “Uh-huh.”

Yugi raised a brow. “Are you. Okay?”

“Yeah, yep. Yes. I’m good.” He forced a smile that he hoped didn’t look manic.

“If you don’t like hugs, I can—”

“No! No, it’s fine, it’s totally cool,” he said hurriedly, sticking out a hand to lean on the table. Unfortunately, it was slightly farther away than he thought, and as he was tipping over, tripped over his own feet to try to right himself, bumping into the side, and sending it screeching across the floor while he tried to grab onto the edge to keep his balance.

“Holy—are you alright?”  Yugi asked, moving to help Atem up from where he was suspended with one corner of the table jammed painfully into his armpit, the other gripping the edge, and his legs tangled like he was playing Twister. _I am a complete mess_ , he lamented.

“I’m okay,” he said, pushing himself to his feet. “I’m good.”

“If you’re sure.” Yugi started backing up toward the front door, waving a little. “Have a _safe_ rest of the night, Atem.”

“You too,” he called back.

When the door swung shut, and Yugi was out of sight, Atem sagged to the floor, and sat against the leg of the chair.

“I am so fucked,” he whispered into the darkness of the Pharaoh’s Throne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know a little better what i want for chapter five, plus my spring break is coming up next week, so i hope the next update will come out a little faster than this one did. yay progress! thanks for all your support, love you guys <333


	5. Just Get to Know Me First

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for being patient with me! this chapter ended up being 1.5 chapters because the second half was supposed to be for *next* chapter, but the first half was too short. i squished them together instead! 
> 
> also, i learned a new word while researching for this. see if you can guess what it is!

“Color?”

“Red, for sure,” Atem said, shaking up a drink. “You?”

“Blue,” Yugi answered, shifting the row of ten brightly colored shot glasses that sat on a tray in front of him. Three were flipped upside down, empty. “Yellow is a close second. Your turn.” He smoothed the heavy coat in his lap, a testament to the steadily dropping temperatures.

Atem paused to think for a moment, tapping the shaker with his fingers. “Movie.”

“Aw, don't make me _choose_!” Yugi protested.

He shrugged as he strained a peach colored cocktail into a long-stemmed glass, filling it just to the top. “Favorite movie. Or—” he gestured to the shots “—you can pass.”

Yugi rested his chin in his hand, pouting at the alcohol. “Why did I suggest this game?”

Atem stuck the cocktail on a tray, swerving out from behind the counter. “You have until I come back. Clock's ticking.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled, picking up a purple colored shot to inspect it.

Atem hid a smile as he delivered the drink to a customer across the bar, and picked up a cash payment from another table. Tuesdays were rapidly becoming his favorite night of the week because he had a new regular, and a new routine. Almost every Tuesday, when Yugi’s weekend started and Atem’s week began, the evening would consist of a different kind of game with various degrees of alcohol consumption, pieces, and number of rules. Atem usually had to bow out early, so he wouldn't get completely plastered on the job, but it was the most fun a Tuesday shift had ever been. The most fun any Tuesday of his _life_ had ever been. He was _looking forward_ to them now, usually one of the most boring days of a bartender’s job.

Most of the games they played were simple party games that were easy to do on the fly without any pieces, but they’d taken turns bringing board games and card games – the night they played Jenga got a little out of hand, but in the best possible way. Atem never claimed to have a favorite, but in secret, he held their rounds of Truth or Dare and Would You Rather in high esteem. Any game where they got to know more about each other was his favorite, any game that meant asking questions and getting answers – even _passing_ was an answer in and of itself – and he memorized as many of those answers as he could.

Sometimes, the whole group of his friends came, and all of them would play together, but he preferred it to be just the two of them, not drunk (most of the time) but _definitely_ buzzed, laughing and having a good time. Together, every Tuesday.

He had _long_ since stopping thinking about that list of rules he made for himself two months ago. He tried not to think about the implications of choosing to ignore them.  

Drink served and payment collected, he headed back to the counter, moving in exaggerated slow motion as he came into Yugi's field of view. He was shot an unimpressed frown.

“Ha-ha,” Yugi said, dry. “Very funny.”

He didn't reply. Inch by inch, he placed the empty tray on the counter, dropping it with a plastic clatter. He popped open the cash register, and counted the cash at an infuriating pace.

“Alright.” The slightest hint of a laugh crept into Yugi’s sarcasm. “You're hilarious, I get it.”

The cash register was closed, slowly, until it finally clicked shut. Atem took long, annoying steps swinging his arms as if he were sprinting, and turned toward Yugi like a broken wind-up doll. 

Yugi was desperately fighting a smile when Atem could finally see him. “You're the worst.”

“Actually,” he corrected, “I just gave you an extra fifteen seconds at least. You're welcome.”

“Well, it was all in vain.” Yugi picked up the purple shot he’d been looking at earlier. “I pass.”

He took a preparatory breath before knocking it back. As soon as he swallowed, he slapped the tiny glass upside down on the tray and wheezed.

“What,” he coughed, blinking hard, “ _is_ that?”

“That,” Atem announced, “is what Marik named the ‘Purple Motherfucker.’”

Yugi, looking like he'd swallowed a lemon whole, smacked his lips together. “Yeah. Good name.”

“It's vodka, two kinds of liqueur, and cranberry juice. If you were wondering.”

“Oh, _cranberry_. That's what that... _taste_ is.”

“Not a fan?”

He wiggled his hand indecisively. “It’s touch and go. And speaking of going—” He spread his hands expectantly.

“Easy. _The Lion King_.”

“Come on, that was everyone’s favorite movie at one point.”

“Do you think _everyone_ watched it once a day for an entire month?”

The look Yugi gave him was absolutely priceless. It was somewhere between impressed and horrified. “You didn’t,” he all but whispered.

Atem nodded sagely. “I did.”

“Why?”

“It’s my favorite movie. Why else?”

“How _old_ were you?”

“Sixteen? Seventeen? Closer to seventeen probably.”

Yugi mouthed “wow” before shaking his head, dumbfounded. “I don’t even know what to say to that.”

“You can say the next category.” He looked away to see a waiting customer and held up a finger. “Actually, hold that thought. I’ll be back.”

Yugi folded his arms on the counter again, reorganizing the shots in front of him into rainbow order. “I’ll be here.”

Atem nearly _skipped_ to the person who needed his attention. He couldn’t help himself – he was in a good mood. “What can I get for you?”

The customer in question was a young woman that he was _probably_ going to have to card. She was toeing the line between looking young and actually _being_ young so closely that he couldn’t tell if it was just her age or some kind of secret make-up technique like Marik used, but refused to disclose. Her short black hair was glossy in the light, clearly thin, but full of volume. Probably another beautification technique that he would never learn.

“What kind of dark beer to you have?” she asked, smiling with teeth so bright they looked plastic.

“The house Porter on-tap is—”

“Sounds great! I’ll have a pint of that.” She nodded definitively, as if she’d been pouring over the decision for minutes, but Atem could have sworn he got whiplash from how fast she answered. _Little suspicious, but alright_.

“Okay. In that case, I’ll need to see some I.D. first—”

“What?” Her dentist-commercial smile suddenly dropped. “You can’t be serious.”

Atem kept his composure – he’d dealt with people like this before – but couldn’t ignore the special kind of pain that came with an Annoying-Customer-Headache. “Sorry, but in case you missed the sign on the door, the bartenders _do_ I.D. customers. I’m going to need to see something that proves you’re old enough to—”

The woman scoffed. “This is the first time this has ever happened to me, you know. Every other bar I go to just serves me because I’m _obviously_ old enough.”

“It’s just policy, Miss. I can’t read minds.”

Her expression became suddenly sly, cunning, almost catlike. She leaned forward on the counter, none too subtly adjusting the front of her shirt. “Come on,” she purred. “I’m sure a guy like you can tell when a girl’s been around the block a few times.” Unfortunately for her, it left Atem completely unphased. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t have fun.

He tilted his head curiously, as if he were interested, letting his expression relax into a lazy smile. His eyes fell hooded, and he leaned close enough to see the victory lap playing prematurely in her eyes. He swiped his tongue along his bottom lip.

“Afraid not,” he deadpanned. “Identification, please.”

Her mouth fell open in shock at the same time a gigantic snort of laughter from a few seats down escaped an observing nose. Atem leaned back behind the counter again as the woman sat back with a huff, staring down the counter and glaring at the perpetrator of the snort. Atem couldn’t help but look as well, because it had come in the same direction as a regular he was _particularly_ fond of. 

Yugi, staring very intently at a yellow colored shot, was holding his hand over his mouth and very obviously trying to keep his composure. He caught Atem’s gaze out of the corner of his eye and gave him a subtle thumbs up with his free hand, masking it with the intention of picking up a glass.

The woman turned up her nose. “What about him?” she accused. “He looks way younger than me, and you served _him_.”

Atem dragged his attention away from Yugi. “That man is a _regular_ here. I know him a lot better than I know you, and that includes knowing he’s of legal drinking age. And speaking of—” he held out his hand expectantly. “Your identification. Please. I don’t want to ask you to leave, but I _can’t_ serve you unless—”

“Oh, please. I saw you two talking earlier. I bet you let him drink because he’s your _boyfriend_ , right?”

She clearly meant it as an insult, but Atem laughed. “If you’re going to make presumptions about my personal life, I’m not sure I’ll need to I.D. you after all. Because that is a grade-school level insult, and you’re not legally allowed to be here.”

The woman’s face grew red and blotchy. “I—You—That is _outrageously_ rude of you to say.”

“Ruder than you using my sexuality as a petty insult?”  At that confession, she snapped her mouth shut. Atem, on the contrary, kept going. “But you are right, it was just as rude of me to accuse you of being a child. I’m sure children’s insults aren’t _nearly_ as homophobic as yours.”

The woman, jaw clenched tight, stood up from the barstool and flipped her hair. “I _won’t_ be coming back here.”

Atem rolled his eyes, and made his way back to Yugi’s spot at the counter. “Your lack of patronage is appreciated.”

He could almost see the steam escape her ears. “Fine.”

He completely turned his attention away from her and onto Yugi, who placed his hand, palm up, to the side, out of the way of the tray of shots, but very clearly in view of the angry customer-to-be. He raised his brows in a silent question. Atem answered with a wink.

“Have a good _evening_ , Miss,” he called, very deliberately lacing his fingers with Yugi’s and waving both their hands at her. He watched her spin robotically on her heel and march out the door, face scrunched in anger. She nearly slammed the door on her way out.

“Damn,” Yugi said, shaking his head. “What is _with_ some people?”

“You meet all sorts working a job like this.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Not always. But sometimes you get some bad ones.”

Yugi held up their still-clasped hands. “Well, at least you have a back-up plan when I’m around.”

Atem was shocked into self-consciousness, the reality of what he was _actually_ _doing_ only just beginning to settle in. “Yep. Back-up plan.”

If Yugi noticed how sweaty his hand had become or how awkwardly he withdrew his fingers, he was gracious enough not to mention it. “So, where were we?” he asked.

“I believe it was your turn,” Atem replied. “Hit me.”

“Favorite thing about your job.”

“After _that_?”

Yugi laughed. “I know, I know, worst timing. But It’s all I’ve got, so humor me. Or—” he lifted one of the remaining six shots – green this time.

Atem leaned against the back counter. “No, I’ve got one.”

He put the shot down. “Let’s hear it then.”

“I like that I get to meet a lot of people. For every awful customer, like that one—” he gestured out the door again, “—there’s four other genuinely interesting people in line right behind them, and they tell you so much about their lives. And, you know.” He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing between the floor and Yugi’s face. “Sometimes you even get a couple friends out of it.”

The friend across from him right now pressed a hand to his chest, smiling brightly. “Aw. That’s really nice.”

He scuffed his feet, like a shy sixth grader giving a presentation at school. “Yeah, well. That’s mine. Your turn – and don’t pass this time.”

Yugi sat up straight like he’d been waiting to talk about this all night. “I really love getting to explore a culture that no longer exists. It’s so fascinating, getting to look at how ancient people lived and the things they did differently to us – or even the _same_.” He perked up, his expression lighting up with excitement usually reserved for an exciting round of Risk. “Ancient Egyptians wrote the earliest recorded peace treaty – with Hittite, under the rule of Rameses II.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! Isn’t it crazy?” Yugi waved his hand through the air dismissively, deflating a little. “You probably don’t want to hear me rant about history you probably learned in school.”

“Hey, I’m not an archeologist. You definitely know more than me. Marik can translate hieroglyphs, and I can barely understand his text messages.”

Yugi gasped. “Oh, thank God, I’m not the only one.”

Atem stepped up to the counter and stared him right in the face. “You can’t read it either?”

“I always have to get Rishid to translate. I _swear,_ he types in a different language.”

“I know! It’s _impossible_ to read.”

Yugi leaned forward conspiratorially. “He spends _way_ too much time around ancient languages.”

Atem tapped the side of his head. “That’s what I’m thinking it is. He’s trying to invent a new kind of hieroglyphics because it’s all he can read anymore.”

“There is literally no other explanation for the way he types.” He pulled out his phone from a pocket and opened a conversation with Marik, rife with emojis and elaborate acronyms, holding it so they could both gawk. “What does _any_ of this say?”

“I couldn’t tell you, but—” Atem pointed to one of Yugi’s emoticons, a tiny crying face holding its arms out desperately, “—this face transcribes all my thoughts when texting Marik.”

“Me too. Oh, hey look at this.” Yugi closed out the conversation with Marik and opened up the group chat. “I took a screenshot of something he said a while back and _nobody_ could figure it out except Ryou.”

In the brief moment before he started rapidly scrolling upwards, Atem caught a glimpse of some of the nicknames Yugi had for everyone in the chat – “Dancing Queen,” “Jou Bro,” “Muscle Car,” “Ryou the Friendly Ghost,” and…

“Hold on,” he said, reaching for the phone.

Yugi stopped scrolling, holding his finger away from the screen like it might bite him. “What?”

Atem scrolled back until he saw a message he remembered sending, and pointed at the nickname. “You named me ‘Other Me?’”

Phrasing it like a question was a bit redundant, because his name was _obviously_ Other Me in Yugi’s phone, but there was still something about him that couldn’t quite believe it. That night after the exhibit – did he really think _that_ highly of Atem’s stupid joke?

“Yep,” Yugi said, straightening a little in his seat and glancing between the screen and Atem’s face. “Though, technically, you named _me_ first.”

He nodded. “I remember. I just didn’t know you liked it that much.”

“I thought it was a good idea for a nickname, and you needed one.” His mouth turned up in a tiny, knowing smile. “It reminds me of the first time Grandpa saw you in the shop and called me about spotting my ‘clone.’”

“To be fair, we’re pretty nearly identical,” he pointed out, returning the grin. He’d met Yugi’s grandpa, who happened to be the owner of his favorite game shop, and the place where Yugi would occasionally stop in to help at. Somehow, they hadn’t ever run into each other there, though the older man had mentioned a grandson who looked similar to him several times. But had never mentioned a name. Or just _how_ similar.

“And _that’s_ why the name fits so well,” Yugi finished, with an exaggerated wink.

Atem could feel his chest kick it up a notch. “I think so, too. I like it.”

At that, Yugi relaxed as if he’d been holding his breath for the whole conversation. “Okay _good_ , because I was _so_ worried you’d think it was creepy or narcissistic or something, and I _really_ debated on changing it for the longest time, but I couldn’t come up with anything else.”

“Narcissistic?” The thought of Yugi being self-centered in any capacity was almost _funny_.

“Kind of? Because you’re not ‘another’ me, you’re _you_. Just because you look like me and we like the same stuff doesn’t mean we’re one person. I don’t know.” He plopped his chin in his hand, staring at the screen. “I guess I overthought it?”

Atem nudged him a little, in a way he hoped was reassuring. “Happens all the time.”

“Thanks. Guess I was worried over nothing.”

“Don’t worry about it. It fits, I think it’s cute—Cool! I think it’s _cool_.” He corrected himself frantically, trying to ignore a creeping heat and Yugi’s quirked eyebrow.

“Did you say ‘cute’?”

“Nope.”

Yugi turned off his phone and slipped it back into his pocket, straightening up again. “I’m _pretty_ sure you said cute.”

“You’re hearing things. I feel like I’d remember if I said that.”

“Yeah, I am hearing things. Things that you said.”

“No, you’re not.”

“ _Yes_ , I am.”

Aten began stacking the empty shot glasses on the tray, preparing to whisk it away. “Clearly you’ve been drinking too much.”

Yugi grabbed the tray to prevent him from taking it. “Hey, we haven’t even finished the game yet.”

Atem crossed his arms over his chest. “Fine. What’s your favorite way to annoy me?”

“That’s easy.” Yugi let go of the tray and propped his head up innocently on his hands. “Being right all the time.”

“You’re not right _all_ the time.”

Yugi’s grin was foxlike. “See, it’s working right now.”

“Do you _want_ me to start being an alcohol snob? Because I can start being an alcohol snob.”

The smile slid off his face. “You wouldn’t.”

Atem rested his elbows on the counter to level with him. “Conveniently, it’s also my favorite way to annoy you.”

“Please don’t.”

“Oh, really? You don’t want to me to explain, in _excruciating_ detail, the difference between an amaretto and an amaro?”

Yugi closed his eyes, pained. “Please stop talking.”

“Or how there is absolutely no way to make Fireball taste good?”

He put his head down on the counter. “I’m going to die.”

“Maybe you’d like me to describe the _mouthfeel_ of—”

“I _hate_ that word – you know I hate that word.”

“I’m just saying that craft beers have a better mouthfeel, Yugi. _Mouthfeel._ ” He leaned closer and enunciated the word as dramatically as he could.

Yugi’s next words were muffled, but sounded a lot like a frustrated, “I’ll show you a goddamn mouthfeel.”

Atem threw back his head and _laughed_. “O-Okay, I think that’s a compliment? Thanks?”

There was no verbal response from Yugi, but one of his hands snaked up to grab one of the forgotten shot glasses, a bright blue one. He picked it up like the hand of a claw machine, set it off the tray, and dragged his head up from the counter.

“I deserve this,” he explained, “because I had to listen to you say the worst word ever invented three times. And then _I_ said it.” He knocked back the shot, and stacked the empty glass with the others that Atem had arranged.

“I change my previous answer,” Atem said. “Saying ‘mouthfeel’ is my favorite way to annoy you.”

“Annoy not _torture_.”

“You’re so dramatic.” _And I love it_ , he finished to himself. If anyone ever accused him of intentionally poking Yugi’s theatric side, they would never have any solid proof. But they’d be right. “Anyway, it’s your turn.”

“Alright, how about something _nicer_?” he offered, drumming his fingers against the table. “What’s your favorite thing about me?”

The question was innocent enough, but it sent Atem into panic mode. Time slowed down and stopped. “What?” he choked.

“Your favorite thing about me. Come on, it’s not that hard.”

“Uh…”

Atem desperately searched Yugi’s face for any sign of drunkenness, glazed expression, vacant smile, the sense of humor of a ten-year-old, _any_ excuse he had to cut him off and stop playing this game – or at the very least claim the five remaining shots for himself. But all he saw was Yugi, frustratingly good at holding his liquor, waiting expectantly for his answer.

Yugi, who had eyes big enough to get lost in. Yugi, who had the puzzle ring always dangling from around his neck, tracing the interlocked bands when he thought no one was looking. He had a single golden lock of hair always hanging in his face that nearly _begged_ to be brushed away. He was always animated, always excited, always encouraging, hard to find without a smile. He always had something nice to say, even though there were tiny cracks in his bright, sunshine demeanor, and a quiet strength to match. He said what he wanted, but it was always kind. He was confident, but never boastful. He was clever, but he kept his compassion. He could light up a room. And even with the weather getting steadily colder, he was always impossibly warm.

Atem knew his favorite thing about Yugi. It was _everything_.

Would he say that out loud? Absolutely not.

He took a yellow shot off the tray and downed it as fast as he could, the taste of lemonade vodka hitting his tongue and burning down his throat. “Pass.” He placed the empty glass back on the tray. _Dodged that bullet_ , he thought.

Yugi’s mouth turned up in a quizzical smile. “I’m not sure if I should be offended by that.”

Atem froze – _Or not_. “I think you’re great as a _whole_ person,” he blurted, trying to come up with an excuse. “Nothing about you is better or worse than anything else.”

Yugi hummed, adjusting the newest of the empty shot glasses. “Nice save.”

Fuck. He glanced down, tapping the counter as he tried to think. He didn’t want to look like a complete asshole. Or give the impression he didn’t _like_ Yugi at all. Should he just answer anyway? He tugged at his collar – why was it so _hot_?

“Hey, Atem?”

He snapped his head back up. “Yes?”

“I’m just kidding.” Yugi was wearing an apologetic smile, thumbing at his ring. “It’s alright if you want to pass, no pressure.”

He could have collapsed from relief. “Right. I knew that.”

“Sure you did.”

“Your turn, go.”

“I know.” He propped his head up on one arm. “I admire your perseverance.”

Atem hoped he didn’t look as flustered as he felt. “Really?”

“Really. It takes a lot of hard work to keep a business running. You’ve even said yourself that this place isn’t very popular. A lot of people would have given up before now. But—” he gestured around the building “—here you are.”

Strangers had said similar things, trying to make small talk and hand out appropriate compliments, and Atem had always just smiled and nodded politely, but somehow this was entirely different. He felt _seen_ , now, because he knew Yugi wasn’t just saying this to be polite. As weird as it was, the parameters of their stupid drinking game – knowing this was _really_ something Yugi liked about him – made that would-be everyday compliment into something that shined brighter than gold.

Maybe it was the Lemondrop shot going to his head.

“Thank you,” he said. “That really means a lot to me.”

“My friends mean a lot to _me_. So we're even.” Yugi held up his hand for a fist bump and was obliged without question. “Your turn.”

“My turn, okay.” He calmed himself down from the previous question to try and focus on coming up with another one, but all he found was a light buzz and the responsible half of his brain telling him to stop. He scrunched up his nose. “I should probably cut myself off for tonight,” he said, stopping just short of a heavy sigh.

“Aw, really?”

“Sorry to say, yeah.”

“We should tally up the score then.”

Yugi unstacked the empty glasses and passed them to either Atem or himself, muttering under his breath about the events of the game “On this question we _both_ passed, so we each get one, and this one was for the first round…”

Atem took the time to glance around the bar, and saw only one person, asleep down at the other end of the counter. He frowned. He'd wake them up later.

“Done,” Yugi announced.

Three empty glasses each had been put in front of them, with four untouched shots remaining. The score was all tied up.

“No winner this time,” Yugi lamented.

“Wait are you counting the one you did as a joke?”

“Joke? You mean after—” he shuddered “—you said _that_ word?”

“Yeah, you weren't passing a question.” He moved to take the glass away, but Yugi slapped his hand.

“Nope. The rule was how much we _drank_ during the game, not necessarily if it was to pass.”

“That shouldn't count, I was messing with you.”

“Are you _trying_ to give me the win?”

He scoffed. “I'd rather it be a fair loss than an unfair tie because I said mou—”

Yugi stuck an accusatory finger in his face. “Don't you _dare_.”

Atem had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. “Alright, alright. It's a tie game.” He glanced over Yugi’s shoulder. “And I need to take care of that.”

“I’ll be here,” he replied. “Enjoying the rest of these.” Wasting no time, he picked up an orange shot and tipped it back.

Slipping out from behind the counter, Atem grabbed a rag to throw over his shoulder and a tray to go with it to make his ruse seem more convincing. There wasn’t anything to “take care of.” But Yugi didn’t need to know that.

He sauntered his way over to the completely empty table, setting the tray down and going through the motions of wiping it down, just in case. He glanced in his peripheral vision – poor Yugi was none the wiser. He threw the rag back over his shoulder, and picked up the tray as quietly as he could manage, walking with slow, toe-ball-heel steps to minimize the sound.

He crept forward, hardly breathing, biting his tongue to keep from bursting out laughing.

Yugi put down an empty shot glass. He raised another to his lips. Atem leaned in right next to his ear—

“How's the _mouthfeel_?”

If there had been sunlight shining through front windows, the cloud from Yugi's spit take would have created a beautiful rainbow as he spat the alcohol all over the counter and into the air in front of him. He slowly turned in his chair with daggers in his eyes.

Atem, on the other hand, was laughing so hard he couldn't breathe, doubled over and clutching the empty tray to his chest, taking wobbling steps away from Yugi in a feeble attempt to escape his wrath.

“O-Oh my _God_ ,” he wheezed. “I wish you could have _seen_ that be-because--” he cut himself off with another fit of uncontrollable laughing.

“Atem Sennen,” Yugi hissed, draping his coat over the seat as he stood up. “You are a dead man.”

He lunged at Atem, who brought the tray up to hide his face just in time, gripping it like a steering wheel, and instinctively tucking his chin into his chest.

Yugi tried to yank it out of his hands. “Let it go!”

“Never!”

They wrestled with the tray like their lives depended on it, swinging each other in different directions, twisting it around in an attempt to loosen their opponent's grip. They stumbled around the room, bumping into table and chairs, straining for control of the plastic shield, but to no avail.

“If you break this,” Atem warned, “you’re _buying_ it.”

“I’ll be breaking way more than your tray,” Yugi promised, jerking twisting it to one side.

Atem followed the trajectory of the poor tray, checking his grip. “You know, we could just put it down.”

“We could.”

“But neither of us are going to, are we?”

“Nope.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” He took a preparatory breath. “I didn’t want to have to do this.”

“Do wha—AH!”

Like a raging bull, Atem put his head flat with his shoulder, shoved all his weight into the tray – and by extension, the person behind it – and _ran_ forward with all the strength he could muster. There was resistance on the other side, as he carried them both across the bar, but it was too late. It only _fueled_ his power, _aided_ his cause, _helped_ him climb the ladder to _victory_ —

They both came to a screeching halt as the backs of Yugi’s legs hit the edge of a table, but the momentum sent him even _farther_ back, and he let go of the tray to catch himself as he started to tip precariously backward.

But Atem was still moving.

At the sudden _lack_ of force pushing the other side of the tray, he was flung forward, tripping over air with the grace of a baby giraffe. The tray sailed free like a frisbee, and two loud _thunks_ as the two of them collapsed in a two-person dogpile, Atem’s forehead making friends with the tabletop, and the back of Yugi’s head doing the same.

“Ow,” they groaned in unison.

“Truce?” Atem offered, slightly muffled.

Yugi nodded. “Truce.”

Atem picked himself up, bracing one hand on the table, using the other to rub his aching head, when he froze. The thing he put his hand on was _not_ a table.

Chancing a glance down, he found his left hand using Yugi’s arm as a handhold, and that they were – _Oh no_ —

“Hey there,” Yugi said, smiling a bit self-consciously from where he was pinned to the table. “Can I have that back?”

“Sorry, I’ll let go.”

Atem reeled back like he’d suddenly been burned. Unfortunately, he failed to consider the state of his legs when he pushed off, and found himself off balance and not knowing where any of his limbs were.  Yugi pushed himself up in an attempt to stand, but it only made things worse, and he spread his arms wide in an attempt to hold himself steady.

Atem lurched forward and Yugi grabbed his sides to hold him steady. “Whoa, be careful—”

He fought down a furious flush and instead focused on trying to find his legs. “I know, I’m trying to—”

“Just hold on, I’m—”

“I think if we go this way—”

“Ow, _ow_ , that’s my _toe_.”

“Sorry, I can’t see what’s going on.”

“Me neither. Wait, what if--?”

“That’s _my_ toe.”

“Sorry, sorry. Oh, what if I do _this_?”

Through the ever-powerful magic of teamwork, both Atem and Yugi were _eventually_ standing with limbs untangled, feet back in their proper places. And hands. And everything else.

“Well,” Yugi huffed, straightening his clothes, “that was way more difficult than it should have been.”

“Agreed.”

An agonized, drawn-out silence stole anything else Atem could have said. He was having trouble looking Yugi in the face, and it appeared the same was true vice-versa. He was looking just about anywhere else in the room, rocking back and forth on his heels. It might have been the lighting, or the drinks, or wishful thinking, but he might have been a little pink in the face, too.

“So,” Atem said, checking his watch, “it's _pretty_ late.” It wasn’t that late.

“Sure is,” Yugi agreed, without even checking what time it was. “I should probably. You know.” He motioned at the door.

“Right, right. And I should. Clean up.”

“I paid you upfront, right?”

“Yep.”

“Then I guess I’ll be going.”

“Uh-huh.”

They continued to stand there, not knowing what to do with themselves. On any other night, they would hug each other goodbye, but tonight? After _that_?

 _Should I just say goodnight?_ Atem thought. _Just get back to work and let him leave on his own? This is so awkward, what am I supposed to do?_

“Do you still want to…?” Yugi started to ask, but trailed off. He opened his arms, half-shrugging.

 _“_ Only if you want to.”

“I mean, I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to.”

“That makes sense.”

In what was probably the most awkward hug in either of their lives, Atem leaned in with stiff, outstretched arms. The entire experience lasted two quick pats, before both of them pulled away a little too quickly. Yugi was fidgeting with his puzzle ring.

“See you next week?” he said, but it sounded more like a question than a farewell.

“I’ll be here.” _As usual,_ Atem added to himself.

Yugi gave him a little wave and tried very hard to not look like he was scurrying for the door. Atem didn’t watch him leave, instead choosing to focus on retrieving the tray from where it was forgotten on the ground. Anything _but_ Yugi, at this point. Which was hard.

He tapped on the plastic in his hands, replaying the unfortunate event on repeat in his mind, as if he could will it to change. It was an accident, them ending up…like that. He hadn’t done it on purpose – especially not after how much he knew they both drank. The first rule he’d set for himself when going into this business was to not “get romantic,” with someone if they were drunk. Or if he was drunk. No drunk romance, that was his rule. And after being around drunk people for nine years, he didn’t want _anything_ even resembling that. But would Yugi know that? Would he think this was some creepy way to get close to him – physically? The thought made his skin crawl.

 _Well, it’s too late now_ , he thought, heading back to the counter. _He’s probably on the way home by now. I’ll text him tomorr—_

Wait.

Was Yugi _driving_ home?

“Shit,” he cursed, flinging the tray on the counter, spinning around and bursting his way out the door—

And running right into the person he was trying to stop.

“Whoa,” Yugi said, holding up his hands like he’d been caught doing something wrong. “Where are you rushing off to?”

“Nowhere now,” Atem admitted, and – he couldn’t help himself – smiling in relief. “You’re not driving home, right?”

He held up his phone before quickly putting it away, rubbing his hands together. “No, I’m taken care of. But I forgot my coat in there, and it’s _really_ cold.”

Atem stepped back and held open the door for Yugi, who stepped through gratefully. He picked up his coat from where it hung around the stool and shoved his arms through the sleeves, stopping to laugh at the remains of his magnificent spit take.

“I really did get it everywhere didn’t I?” he mused.

“I’ve really got my work cut out for me tonight, that’s for sure,” Atem agreed.

Yugi looked back at him, smug. “Think of it like revenge.”

“And it was totally worth it.”

“I’m sure it was.” Yugi shook his head fondly as he passed Atem on the way out. “Goodnight.”

“Actually, wait.” Atem made to grab Yugi’s arm, but before his fingers could even graze his sleeve, he thought better of it.

He turned around anyway. “Yeah?”

Atem folded his hands behind him. “That whole, uh, table scene. I _didn’t_ mean to do that. Or make you uncomfortable or anything. At all.”

“It’s totally okay. We were just messing around.” Yugi gave him a light punch on the shoulder.

“I just wanted to make sure. You know...” He gestured vaguely around – the drinking from earlier was finally starting to hit.

Yugi’s smile was part amused and part grateful. “Thank you.” He pushed the door open with his back, giving a tiny salute. “Goodnight for _real_ this time.”

“Goodnight. Get home safe.”

“You too.”

The door swung shut and Yugi disappeared into the night. Atem was left with a spit-soaked countertop, a customer who had slept through that whole thing somehow, and another hour and a half to himself. He got back to work with a smile.

 

 

The first snow of the season had begun to gently flutter down over the city of Domino. Fat snowflakes shimmered in the light as they sailed to Earth, covering the roofs of buildings, cars, streets, and people getting to work on a busy weekday afternoon.

Busy for many people, but not Atem. He hadn’t turned on his lights, he hadn’t gotten out of bed, he hadn’t eaten all day. He hadn’t slept great either. Or at all.

What he had done was stare blankly at the face of his golden watch, holding it in his hand for hours, because he sure as hell didn’t want to do anything else. Not today. Never today. The day he dreaded every year, the day he counted down to the hour. And hated every minute of.

Isis had texted him. So had Marik and Rishid – every year it was the same. To invite him to do something, to get his mind off of it. Which only made him think about it more. Usually, he would politely decline, but today he hadn’t even picked up his phone. He didn’t need another reminder of what day it was, and all the reminders to not think about what day it was.

At least he didn’t have to worry about work. He’d already scheduled someone else to take over for him today. The beauty of running his own business, right?

He stared at his watch.

It read 2:37pm.

He closed his eyes and sighed. He wished he could sleep until the day was over, but he didn’t even have the energy to do _that_. His stomach gurgled for what felt like the millionth time. He ignored it.

On his nightstand, his phone buzzed, the third time that hour. Isis was always the most persistent. For good reason, he supposed. Rishid and Marik had already cut themselves off from the family when it happened. Isis and he were the only ones who really remembered it. That, and the rest of the family that was still in Cairo. They might have all moved. He wouldn’t have blamed them. It’s what Atem’s parents did to him.

He envied Marik and Rishid. He really did. They had a choice when they moved to Japan. He might have come here on his own, given time. After all, who doesn’t dream of travelling far from home? But instead, he had to be saddled with the memory of being forced away from home, by himself, at sixteen, waving goodbye to his parents from the car in the driveway because it wasn’t safe for them to be seen in public. It wasn’t safe for him to be seen in public either, but they hoped people wouldn’t stoop to killing a teenager. And it wasn’t like he couldn’t defend himself. He’d gotten in too many schoolyard fights to not know how to take out someone larger than him.

 _School._ He wondered if Mana and Mahad missed him. He wondered if they thought about him, or if they’d ever tried to contact him. He hadn’t even gotten to _say_ goodbye to them. One day, he was there. And the next, he was gone. In Japan until it was safe. Little did they know.

But nobody thinks it’ll happen to them. Atem certainly didn’t think it would happen to him. He thought he would only be in Japan for a few months – a year at most. And now, it was fifteen years. Fifteen years away from home, and everything that came with that.

 _I could just go back_ , he’d thought to himself, so many times, so many different years. _No one’s stopping me._ _I can just move back to Cairo._

But could he?

 _Could_ he go back there? Back to his old life, with his old expectations, with his old friends? Just pick up where he’d left off? No. He’d lived in Domino for half his life – the adult half. The half that let him run free, meet people, get a job, get a place of his own. He couldn’t just uproot himself and move halfway across the world for a life that didn’t exist.

He clutched his watch tighter in his hand, pressing it to his chest. He couldn’t go back, but he _missed_ it. He missed everything. The sights, the sounds, the smells, the people, the blazing summers, the skyline – getting the perfect angle where both the skyscrapers of the twenty-first century and the Pyramids of Giza were visible. He missed his friends. He missed his family.

He unclenched his fingers, and looked down at the watch in his hand. Tiny, red imprints stuck around on his skin where he’d been holding it, the details carving themselves across his palm. The sliver of a second hand ticked away innocently, never knowing how much it meant to some random jackass, a bartender with one foot in the present and the other stuck in the past.

 _If you ever get stuck in your life,_ his father had said, cinching the large watch around his skinny, teenage wrist, _look at this to remind you that your mother and I are always by your side._

But looking at the golden thing now, he felt more alone than he'd ever felt.

 

 

Atem didn't remember falling asleep, but when he woke up, he felt awful. Physically. Mentally. Spiritually. Whatever.

The lack of food in his belly was made extremely apparent by the crumbling feeling in his insides, the sluggish way he opened his eyes, and way his body rejected the _idea_ of any kind of movement. He was cold, too, the snow coming down heavier in the dark, lit hazily by the streetlights.

_Dark? What time..._

He almost reached for his phone before a familiar weight in his hand stopped him. He glanced down at the watch: 9:06pm. Well, his plan of sleeping the day away had _almost_ worked. His phone buzzed on his nightstand.

He would have ignored it, like he had all day, but the thought occurred to him that Isis never picked up her phone after eight. Marik, he guessed, had lost patience earlier that day, and Rishid hardly ever texted. So who was it? He’d muted the group chat a while ago, so it wouldn’t distract him during work, and hadn’t had a one-on-one text with any of his friends recently. No one except Yugi, but—

He felt his stomach shrivel up smaller than it already was. Yugi.

It was _Tuesday_.

Atem rolled over onto his back and shut his eyes. His phone buzzed again, and that all but confirmed his suspicions. _Damn it._

He wanted to not care. He wanted so desperately to not care about standing up Yugi on Tuesday – _their_ day. He wanted to be able to ignore these texts like he ignored the ones from his cousins, worry about it in the morning, or the next day, or next week, or never. Just come up with some kind of lie to make up for it. Laugh, smile, brush it off. Forget about it. Move on like it never even happened.

But it had only been two minutes, and he was already thinking up a reply to any of the dozen texts he could have gotten. He hadn’t even looked at his phone yet. Clearly, not caring wasn’t an option.

And if he was being honest with himself (he wasn’t), he _wanted_ to talk to someone who didn’t know. To not have to worry about them tiptoeing around him, not realizing that by caring so much about not bringing up “events,” that they were only bringing them to the front of the conversation, like a bird in a butcher shop window. It’s why he never agreed to go out with his cousins. It’s why he hadn’t told anyone in Japan why he always shut himself in on December third.

He sighed and reached for his phone, replacing it on his nightstand with his watch. If he was really doing this, might as well get it over with.

The bright screen nearly blinded him in the darkness of his room, and he had to swipe blind to open the messages he knew had just appeared on his screen. When his eyes finally adjusted, he read them.

 

**Yugi 9:06pm**

_hey, i’m here!_

 

**Yugi 9:08pm**

_you didn’t tell me you weren’t going to be in tonight, is everything okay?_

 

Atem felt a tiny rush of satisfaction at the thought of Yugi thinking to check up on him instead of just having a drink and leaving, but it was quickly squashed underneath the realization that he had to come up with a reply.

Was he okay? No. Did he want to tell Yugi that? Make him worry, alone in his bar, until a week later when they saw each other again? No. Did he want to tell him the _truth_? Absolutely not.

He went for the middle ground option.

 

**Atem 9:11pm**

_sorry i meant to text you_

 

A lie – he’d completely forgotten.

 

**Atem 9:11pm**

_im not okay today_

 

One truth, at the very least.

 

**Atem 9:12pm**

_you don’t have worry about it though, i’ll be fine_

 

A half-truth. Yugi _didn’t_ have to worry – in fact, Atem didn’t want him to worry at all. But would he be fine? Only partially. Only until next year.

He didn’t have to wait long for an answer, which he was grateful for…until he saw the message.

 

**Yugi 9:13pm**

_would it be alright if i came over?_

 

He hadn’t been expecting that reply. An “okay! feel better soon!” would have been more what he expected. Maybe a hugging emoticon. Not _this_ – whatever this was. Why would Yugi want to come over at all?

 

**Atem 9:14pm**

_came over?_

 

**Yugi 9:14pm**

_it’s okay if you don’t want me to_

**Yugi 9:14pm**

_i just figured you might want someone to help you out with stuff you can’t do today_

 

**Yugi 9:14pm**

_i still have your address from the disney marathon, so you don’t need to worry about that_

 

Stuff he couldn’t do today. Like anything.

He looked down at himself, squinting in the low light, wearing the same clothes he’d been wearing when he went to bed the previous night. His hair was probably a rat’s next, he probably had dark circles under his eyes, and not to mention the sagging weight he felt in his bones that dragged him down to the center of the Earth. He really didn’t need Yugi seeing him like this – he didn’t need _anyone_ seeing him like this.

 

**Atem 9:15pm**

_im not exactly dressed for company?_

 

He hoped the hint of just _how bad_ he was would get across in a single text message, but his brain was running on fumes. “Good enough,” at communicating was about the only level he was able to be on at the moment.

 

**Yugi 9:15pm**

_trust me, i’ve seen worse_

 

**Yugi 9:16pm**

_i don’t care how you look, i want to help_

 

**Yugi 9:16pm**

_if you don’t want me over, just say no_

**Yugi 9:16pm**

_but i’m only going to give you five minutes before i get in my car and start driving_

 

Atem could have rolled his eyes – persistent as always. But as much as there was a voice in his head yelling at him to tell Yugi no, there was a smaller, quieter voice that was way more convincing, and it said _Say yes_.

He looked forward to Tuesdays. He _cherished_ Tuesdays. Skipping one felt like an additional punch in the gut to everything he was going through. Seeing Yugi might even help lift his sunken spirits. Seeing Yugi in general tended to lift his spirits. Maybe…maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea.

 

**Atem 9:19pm**

_drive safe_

 

He dropped his phone in his lap and picked up his watch again. Even in the dark, the gold shimmered.

“I miss you,” his whispered into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun facts  
> \- the disney marathon included the lion king  
> \- atem can neither confirm nor deny which, if any, of the songs he sang, and how many glasses of wine, if any, he had  
> \- everyone else can confirm the answers are "all of them," and "three"
> 
> and just as an aside, i really wanted to show my appreciation for all the love this story has gotten since i started it, and how important all of you are to the process of getting this thing written (seriously, i open my inbox and read your comments while i'm working). i couldn't think of anything, until i remembered i made a playlist to listen to while i write this fic.
> 
> i opened it to the public, made it collaborative, and you can find it right here: https://spoti.fi/2vTzqyS 
> 
> feel free to add any songs you think fit - characters, plot, setting, anything. this is your story too, and i can't thank you enough <3
> 
> EDIT 5/13/19: so i just learned you have to be following someone on spotify to add to a collaborative playlist. my profile is right here: https://spoti.fi/30kg1VN sorry about that!


	6. Things You Want (But Can’t Have)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is dedicated to that one time i bought the wrong kind of rice at the store, but ended up really liking it

Yugi's arrival was later than expected.

Atem purposely bought and licensed a building that was close to where he lived when he opened the Pharaoh's Throne, both so he wouldn't be burning too much gas driving there day after day, and so the chances of him getting lost while plastered were low. In any case, when there was a knock on his front door a full fifteen minutes after their conversation ended, he had almost sent a follow up text to ask Yugi if he was still coming.

“Hang on,” Atem called, standing up from where he'd settled down on the couch – he figured moving somewhere else in the house would motivate him to do something other than sit there. It didn't work.

He slumped over to the door, unlocking it and creaking it open. Yugi was smiling back at him, cheeks pink from the cold, and a plastic grocery bag clutched in a gloved hand. As the door opened wider, the smile faltered. “Hi,” he said.

“Hey,” Atem replied. His voice creaked a little, and he cleared his throat.

“Sorry it took a little while for me to get here.” He held up the grocery bag. “I went and picked up a couple things.”

“Don't worry about it.” He stepped back from the threshold and held the door open wide.

Yugi stepped in, kicking off his boots and shedding his coat and gloves at the door. Atem close the door and pressed his back against it, not knowing where else to be. He would rather be in bed, but with Yugi over, that probably wasn't an option.

Speaking of Yugi, he was squinting around the room, groping for a lightswitch. “Why's it so dark in here?”

Oh yeah. He hadn't turned the lights on.

Atem leaned over from his place at the door and closed his own eyes as he flicked on the nearest lightswitch. He heard a small, “That’s better,” and slowly blinked his eyes open. He squinted, not used to the florescent bulbs.

Yugi was facing him now, the grocery bag clutched in both hands, giving him a once-over. “You look…” he trailed off, scrunching his mouth to the side.

“Like shit?” Atem offered.

“I was going to say _tired_.”

“That works too.”

“Have you eaten today?”

He didn’t answer, but apparently that was all Yugi needed, nodding definitively and marching to the kitchen. Atem could hear the rustle of the plastic bag from where he stood, still against the door like he was barricading it. He felt like he should go help or something, but the thought of looking Yugi in the face for any amount of time was one that made him sick. He felt guilty. Ashamed. His head swam with gibberish thoughts, none of them coherent, but all of them bad.

“You have a rice cooker, right?” called Yugi.

_Come on, just go_. “Yeah,” he replied, pushing himself off the door with a huff. “It’s under the stove.”

He entered the kitchen to a loud metallic banging as Yugi extracted the rice cooker from the drawer where it was trapped under various pots and pans, the grocery bag resting behind him on the counter.

“Sorry,” he said. “I really need to clean out that drawer.”

“You think this is bad?” Yugi scoffed, setting down the hefty appliance on the counter next to the  bag and kicking the drawer closed. “Wait until you see Jou's kitchen. It's like an ad for non-stick pans exploded in there.”

“Doesn't he hate cooking?”

“With everything he has. But gifting him kitchen utensils is Shizuka’s subtle way of trying to make him like it.” He turned his back, unpacking the bag and setting up the cooker.

“Is it working?”

“Kind of. He knows how to use them all without burning his place to the ground, at least.”

Yugi crumpled the plastic bag into a tiny ball and tossed it in the garbage on the far side of the room, giving Atem a chance to look at what used to be inside it: a box of green tea and a brightly decorated bag of rice with a series of delicate white flowers on the front. In a swirling font it read “Jasmine Rice.” He frowned at it a little, thinking. It sounded vaguely familiar, like he might have heard it once and forgotten about it, but he knew for sure he'd never eaten it before. What – jasmine like the flower? Flower-rice?

“You alright?” Yugi asked.

Atem blinked out of his stupor. “I was just looking.”

“Have you ever had jasmine rice before?”

“Nope.”

Yugi tore open the bag and smiled. “I hope you like it, then.”

He flitted around the kitchen, prepping the impromptu meal, and Atem suddenly found himself being completely useless, leaning against a table. He resisted the urge to slink away in shame.

“I can help,” he blurted instead, taking a tentative step forward.

Yugi looked up from measuring the rice. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I can—” he glanced around at what could possibly be needing to get done “—I can start the tea. If you want.”

Yugi picked up the box of tea and tossed it his way. “Have a blast.”

There wasn't much to do, really. Put some water in a kettle, set it on the stove, and wait. But the act of moving around, having a purpose, doing something _productive_ for the first time all day was already lessening Atem's melancholy. Just a little bit.

Yugi nudged his arm. “Hey, you're not wearing your watch.”

And then it all came rushing back.

He bit his tongue and closed his eyes and took a long, slow breath. “No,” he said quietly. “I'm not.”

Three words seemed to get the message across. “Right, okay. Shutting up about the watch now. Did you see how much snow we got today?”

The conversation continued very much like that, talking about little things, like the projected snowfall this season – heavy at first, but it was expected to slow down in the coming weeks. It wasn't long before the rice cooker was shut and all they were doing was waiting until it beeped.

Atem held a strange mix of gratitude and irritation. On the one hand, he didn't want to talk about “it.” At all. And he was grateful for Yugi's diversions. But at the same time, the exact thing that he hadn't wanted to happen, happened. He was being danced around, handled like something fragile. Yugi's eyes stared too intently at his face, unwavering, like he was searching for something there or trying _not_ to search for something else.

He swallowed down the bubble of anger. _It's not his fault,_ he rationalized. _He doesn't know what’s going on and he doesn't want to hurt you. It's different._

It didn't feel different, but it’s what he told himself.

“Why jasmine rice?” he asked, just to get his mind off its current track.

The intense stare softened. “Why not?”

“That’s not a real answer. Plus, I _have_ plain rice. You bought this. Why?”

One of Yugi’s hands reached up to play with his puzzle ring. “It’s my comfort food. It’s what my mom used to make it for me – when she was home anyway. I thought it might help you too.”

As if it could hear their conversation, the rice cooker’s alarm ended with a shrill beep. Yugi turned to tend to it, a little _too_ quickly, and Atem took that time to prepare the tea. The kettle had whistled a while ago, but it sat on a low flame to keep it warm, a flame that was shut off as Atem grabbed the kettle to pour the steaming water out into a pair of mugs, green tea bags draped over the sides. On any other night, he would have made tea more formally, but tonight he could accept being lazy.

There was a small click as the rice cooker popped open and a faint floral scent, mixed with the smell of fresh rice, filled the kitchen. It was a confusing pair of smells, but despite his perplexed nose, he found it calming. It was fresh and warm and homey – he had to keep himself from breathing deep to savor it. No wonder it was Yugi's comfort food of choice.

They worked in silence, if you could call “waiting for tea to steep,” and “scooping rice into bowls,” work. But it wasn’t an awkward silence, or a tense one, or even an unintentional lapse in conversation. It was a companionable silence. A silence that understood that words weren’t the only way to communicate. That sometimes they were inadequate, or unneeded.

Atem walked the mugs of tea to the table, setting them down with two soft _thunks_ , and carefully took the steaming tea bags to the trash. When he turned around, Yugi was putting down two bowls of jasmine rice, and setting chopsticks beside them, eyes half-glazed like he was lost in a memory. The expression vanished when he noticed Atem looking, replaced with a patient smile.

“Come on,” he said, sitting down and waving Atem over. “Let’s eat.”

He sat down across from Yugi, plopping a little harder into his seat than he meant to and holding back a deep breath out. Was he _really_ that tired? Suddenly, the thought of food hadn’t sounded as unappealing as it had all day. And the rice smelled _really_ good.

He picked up his chopsticks and took his first tentative bite of the rice, and couldn’t help but pause, eyes widening, as the flavor hit his tongue – it was _weird_ , but not in a bad way. The smell wasn’t as strong as it had been at first, but the _taste_ definitely lingered. The heady perfume of jasmine took focus of the dish, but it wasn’t so overpowering that it was like eating a flower. The starch of the rice muted it significantly, bringing it to a pleasant middle ground of defined, but balanced, flavor.

Yugi must have seen the change in his face, because his patient smile grew to a grin. “Like it?”

“Mhmm,” he replied, already taking another bite. “’S good.”

“I’m glad.”

The companionable silence fell over them again, mostly because it would be hard for Atem to speak while he was shoveling rice into his mouth, the motivation to eat lost to him in the day returning in full force. For his guest’s sake, he tried to keep from being a complete animal, but Yugi didn’t seem to mind in the slightest – he was hardly paying attention. He ate his own rice at a more reasonable pace, the whole time staring down into his bowl with a wistful smile. Eventually, curiosity overpowered Atem’s hunger.

“Your mom made this for you?” he asked, making sure his mouth was vacated of rice with a swig of tea.

Yugi’s head snapped to attention. “What? Oh, yeah. She used to. Back when I was in school.” The glazed expression returned to his eyes, looking at Atem, but not seeing him.

“Was it a family tradition?”

“No. Well, not really. I don’t have _much_ of a family.” He shrugged, shoulders barely moving. “It was something my mom and I did, if you want to call that a tradition.”

Atem nodded – he knew what that was like. “When did she make it?”

Yugi tapped his chopsticks against the lip of the bowl. “When I was upset, mostly. Or if something had ‘happened’ at school.”

Atem bit his tongue, too late in realizing his error. Yugi wasn’t shy about admitting he was bullied in school – but that didn’t mean he liked talking about it. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay.” He put on a smile, as bright as it was sad. “It was a while ago. And now I’m sharing our little tradition with you.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m happy to do it.” His expression changed subtly, he scooted slightly forward. “And I’m happy to help you, any time. You know that.”

The tiniest, smallest twinge of irritation went off in the back of Atem’s mind. He brushed it away. “I know. I appreciate it.”

Yugi nodded definitively. “Good. Because I—” he blew out his cheeks and stared at the ceiling for a few seconds. “Do you mind if I get a little preachy?”

_Yes_. “I guess not.”

“Alright. Well, I didn’t have a lot of support in my life, even with my mom and my grandpa and my friends, because no one knew I needed it. You know?”

_If this is going where I think it’s going_ … “Yeah, I get it.”

“Right. So if you need help, you can talk to me – or anyone else in the group, you know they’d all be happy to help too. It might sound a little presumptuous, but don’t think it could hurt to think about opening up about whatever’s going on.”

It was going there. He did _not_ want it to go there. “Thanks, but I don’t really think I want to do that.”

“I get it, it’s hard and it’s scary, but Ryou minored in psychology, and I think he still has friends who—”

The irritated twinge was plucking his nerves like a guitar. “I don’t need that sort of thing. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mean to pry—”

“Then don’t.”

The words bit harder than he meant them to, even in his own ears they sounded vicious. Yugi blinked, and his entire demeanor changed, earnest compassion flipping like a switch to confused frustration.

“Excuse me?” he said. “I’m just trying to help.”

“I appreciate it,” Atem replied, his words clipped even as he tried to wrangle himself back into a calmer state of mind. “But, like I said, I don’t need it.”

He stood up, carrying his empty bowl and mug to the sink, hoping to cut off the conversation  there. His hopes were dashed as he heard the scraping of a chair.

“I never _said_ you had to take my advice,” Yugi protested.

“Now you know ahead of time that I won’t. I’m saving you some time.”

“Will you just _hear me out_ —”

“I don’t _want_ —”

“You don’t want what?” Yugi scoffed. “My help? Then what that _hell_ am I doing here?”

Atem whirled around to face him, standing as tall as he could. “You wanted to come over, I didn’t _ask_ you to be here.”

“You said—”

“We’re friends! What am I going to do, say no?”

“You’re having no problem saying it now.”

“Am I not allowed to change my mind?”

Yugi closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“And _you’re_ being bullheaded.”

His eyes flew open, and in them was a kind of anger that Atem had never seen before. “Oh, am I?” he said, his voice quiet like the eye of a hurricane. “ _Am_ I being bullheaded? I’m sorry for being _bullheaded_ when I want to help someone I care about.”

Atem wasn’t capable of quiet anger. It always exploded from him like firecrackers, boiling and bubbling like some sick concoction. And when he opened his mouth next, it wasn’t any different. “Dammit, I don’t _want_ help, I didn’t _ask_ for your advice!”

“You don’t want help, you don’t want advice, what the hell _do_ you want?”

“I want my fucking _parents_ back!”

Atem stood, chest heaving, face flushed with anger, for seconds until the realization of what he’d said sunk in. It sunk through his skin, into his bones. It dropped rocks into his belly, it stole the warmth from his body. The anger dripped from his face to reveal the vulnerable child from Cairo hiding underneath.

Yugi’s eyes widened, the rage evaporated. “You what?”

One stumbling step backwards, then two. That was as far as Atem got before his back hit the counter and his composure snapped. He coughed and sobbed and choked all at once, covering his mouth with his hand to hide the strangled sound. He hadn’t expected it to be this hard, even after fifteen years. He thought it would have been easier by now, that the pain would have been gone. But saying it out loud was so much different than keeping it locked away inside, and throwing the key into the darkest reaches of his mind.

Hot tears pricked at his eyes. He blinked, fat drops rolling down his cheeks, but he hardly noticed through the memories replaying over and over again in his mind. Flickering TV screens and horrified faces, phone calls in dark hallways, ones he wasn't supposed to hear, and his uncle rushing him back to his room – his _new_ room – already crying, already grieving.

Someone was shaking him, gripping his shoulders, gently calling his name. The present day rushed up to meet him as he shook himself and blinked, hard, taking his hand off his mouth. He stared up into Yugi's concerned face. The hands left his shoulders promptly.

“Hey, are you back?” Yugi asked. “Can you hear me? You don't have to say anything. Just nod, yes or no.”

He nodded.

“Okay, good. Do you want to sit down in there?” He jerked his head toward the living room.

Another nod.

“Is it alright if I sit with you?”

A pause. A nod.

“Okay.” He reached out a hand, hovering it over Atem's shoulder. “Can I touch you? Sorry, I couldn't ask you before.”

He nodded slowly.

“Just tell me if you don't want me to, okay?”

Yugi lightly put his hovering hand down and ushered Atem toward the couch, only moving as far as he was moving. Which wasn't very fast, feet dragging, limbs hanging limp like a doll. They did get there, dropping ungracefully to the nearest cushion at soon as it was in sight in Atem’s case, staring into his lap, hands balled into fists. Yugi sat at his side, leaning forward to try and catch his eye under the curtain of maroon and gold.

“You don’t have to tell me anything about your parents,” Yugi said, calm but not cold, any trace of anger from mere minutes ago vanished, “but if there’s anything else I can do for you, just say the word.”

Atem rubbed his damp eyes, grinding his teeth and curling his toes. None of his friends since he moved to Japan knew about what happened to his parents. Their deaths had been something he’d been keeping a strictly family matter for years. The idea of telling someone outside the family was almost unthinkable at this point. And yet, here he was, considering doing just that.

He wasn’t even sure if the words would move past his teeth. He hadn’t talked about it in…ever. Hiding it away year after year had its downsides. It was one gigantic downside, actually. Feeling miserable, feeling alone, feeling confused, feeling in general. It was all he could do not to completely shut down. Remembering hurt too much.

He glanced out the corner of his eye, and saw Yugi, sitting there, presumably waiting for an answer. His legs were crossed on the couch, and a familiar silver chain rested over his thigh. He twirled the puzzle ring around his fingers, shaking it out and solving it in the blink of an eye. An unbroken pattern. Over and over and over. Comforting, but not really achieving much.

Atem’s pattern had never been comforting. It was all based in discomfort, in denial, in longing for a life that was impossible to go back to. Maybe it was finally time.

“My parents,” he started, sitting up and taking a slow breath, “were politicians. Egyptian parliament.”

Yugi immediately looked up as he started talking, stringing the ring back on its chain and hooking it behind his neck. He was quiet, so Atem swallowed and continued.

“My family has been made up of politicians for years. I was raised with the expectation that I would be following in their footsteps. I was on the debate team in school, I ran for class president, stuff like that.”

“Was that what you wanted?” Yugi asked.

“I guess so. I was going to be a politician, according to my family, so I went with it. I was happy to keep the line of our family’s public service alive. But—” he cut himself off. Something was crawling up his throat, a sob, a scream, a gasp, he couldn’t tell. But it hurt. He tried to swallow it down, but it stayed, curling up on his vocal chords like a cat, digging in its claws.

Again, a different life started floating before his eyes. Standing in his father’s office, helping him adjust paperwork. Watching his mother adjust her _hijab_ every morning before she went to work. Staying over at Mahad’s house when both his parents were away, playing board games on the living room floor. Lights, so many _lights_ , and crying. He couldn’t understand why so many people were _crying, Mom, Dad, what’s going on? Why are you_ —

A gentle hand on his shoulder sent him rocketing back to reality, and he jerked, staring wild-eyed right at Yugi. He retracted his hand slowly. Atem shook himself and breathed deep. He was okay. He was in his apartment. He was with Yugi. He was in Japan.

_Was_ that okay?

“Are you…?” Yugi started, trailing off. He probably realized how many qualifiers his question would have to have attached to it.

“Yeah,” Atem said, his voice shaky. “I just. Yeah, I’m okay.”

“You don’t have to keep going.”

This was it. His opportunity for a way out. Yugi wasn’t going to make him keep going – he could stop here and keep the rest of it to himself, forever. He could ignore the pain until it went away, just like last year, and the year before, and the year before.

Atem looked at Yugi, at his friend. He was quiet, eyes wide and sympathetic. He wanted to help.

_"I didn’t get support because no one knew I needed it._ ”

In that moment, Atem decided.

“I really need to talk about it,” he insisted. He hoped, _prayed,_ that Yugi would understand. How much he needed to say this to him, to anyone.

Yugi nodded, a knowing shift in his expression that was too familiar to be sympathy. “Okay. Just take your time, alright? I’m not going anywhere.”

Atem nodded. He swallowed again. He took another breath.

“One day, parliament, along with the president, announced a terrorist cell was found somewhere in the country. I was probably twelve when it happened, so I don’t remember much. But it was something about terrorists being apprehended. People asked questions, but interest died down after a month or two.”

Now that he’d started talking, he was finding it hard to stop. It just spilled out like an infinite waterfall, and there was nothing he could do about it.

“Later, when I was sixteen, a survivor from the ‘apprehension,’ came forward.” He remembered the intimidating figure on every news report for weeks: a pale man with a shock of white hair, a wicked scar tearing across one of his eyes and down his cheek. “He said, and it was proved, eventually, that the terrorists _weren’t_ terrorists, and the government knew that. They were political dissenters. Innocent people were killed.

“My— my parents were at the _head_ of the decision to take action against those people. They proposed it to parliament. It was approved. People were wiped off the map, just like that. The city doesn’t even _exist_ anymore.”

Atem was crying. He knew he was crying. He felt the tears rolling down his cheeks, his nose clogging up, but he could hardly feel it. All he could feel was the shock, the _horror_ that he felt seeing the report at Mahad’s house. Sitting on the couch and seeing his parents’ faces, and the words “GOVERNMENT SANCTIONED MURDER.” The frightened look they shared. Mana almost shrieking in denial. Being afraid to go home that night.

And then…

“Then riots started. A lot of riots. It was the straw that broke the camel’s back, I guess. People got violent, even at school. They knew my parents, and they knew I wanted to be a politician. Just like them.”

Yugi tensed for a microsecond, then relaxed. Atem grit his teeth – he didn’t want to remember what happened back then any more than Yugi wanted to hear about it.

“I was jumped after school a couple times. I had things…thrown at me. People called me and my family ‘dirty liars.’ Among _other_ things.”

Being out in high school was one of the worst decisions he’d ever made. Even before people knew what his parents had done, other kids were calling him names, and he was getting into schoolyard scraps. It was never anything serious – he could hold his own pretty well, and his assailants had the scars to prove it. But things got a _lot_ worse when the “Tragedy of Kul Elna” was revealed.

He could still see insults scrawled on the notebook he’d foolishly left unattended on his desk. The looks on his parents’ faces when he’d brought home a bloody arm and a broken glass bottle one day, a black eye and a broken rib the next. The looks they gave each other when he told them why.

“After about two weeks of that, I came home from school and all my clothes were in a suitcase. My parents told me I would be staying with my cousins in Japan until the riots died down, and it was safe for me to come home. My uncle drove me to the airport, because they didn’t want to risk leaving the house. And not even a _week_ later…”

The words got caught in his throat. He choked on his own tongue, until finally he spit it out as quickly as he could, “They were both killed. And I--" he swallowed a sob. "I don't know how to feel. They did such horrible things… but they were my _parents_. Am I supposed to hate them?"

It wasn't a question he ever expected an answer to. It wasn't a question he ever thought he'd ask out loud. It _was_ a question he'd been asking himself for fifteen years, every time he looked down at his watch, every time he missed his parents, every time he thought of Cairo. Was he supposed to reject them for what they did? To disown himself post-mortem? They were the forefront of the deaths of innocent people, and he couldn't ever forget that. But it tore him apart to think of his parents as evil, to hate them. At the same time, it felt wrong not to.

“I don’t think,” Yugi began, “you’re ‘supposed’ to feel one way or the other.” He made sure Atem stayed silent before continuing. “They were your parents and you loved them, even if they did bad things. One doesn’t cancel out the other.”

“But it feels _wrong_. To miss them when I know what they did. To still want them back.” He threw out his hands helplessly. “How am I supposed to love them? How is that right?”

Yugi didn’t answer right away. He sat still, and there was something conflicted in his eyes. He was weighing a decision, and it was all too easy to imagine the sound of the gears turning in his mind. Finally, he let out a resigned sigh.

“I’ve been in a similar situation,” he said, picking his words carefully. “It’s not nearly as big as yours, but I had the same thoughts. If you want, I could tell you how I came to terms with it.”

Atem wiped his eyes again. He pulled his legs up on the couch and rested his arms on his knees. “Go ahead.”

Yugi pulled his hands into his lap and took a deep breath. “My ex, the one that cheated on me, was also the one who helped me quit smoking.”

Every thought was jettisoned out of Atem’s mind, and he couldn’t help but blurt, “ _You_?” before he caught himself. “Sorry,” he added, “that was awful. I just didn’t expect that.”

“It’s alright,” Yugi said, “everyone is surprised when they hear it. I was in a different place back then. Very different.” A strange mix of wistfulness and regret passed like a cloud over his face. “I was five years clean last month.”

“That’s great,” he said, fumbling for words.

Yugi smiled, but there was something hollow about it. “Thanks. It's been crazy.”

The question of _Why?_ was perched at the tip of his tongue, but it was one Atem refused to ask. “Is that why you don't really talk about your dueling career?”

“Yes. It brings back a lot… well, just a lot.” Yugi thumbed his puzzle ring, but he didn't even seem to realize he was doing it. “I try to avoid it when I can, but sometimes it comes back by itself.”

He knew _that_ feeling all too well. “Mhmm.”

“I was such a nervous kid, you know?”

“Oh yeah. I never really grew out of my ‘nervous kid' phase.”

This time, his smile was genuine. “I don't think you _grew_ much at all.”

“Like you're one to talk, Mister Five-Foot-Three.”

“Hey, it's three more than you.”

They laughed together, even with the specter of the conversation hanging over them, even with the date on the calendar staying the same. It was like a small ray of sunshine had pierced through the night, to glimmer shortly, before disappearing again. And it did disappear, as Yugi took up the mantle of talking again.

“Smoking wasn’t really something I ever thought I would do,” he said. “But when I became the ‘King of Games,’ something cracked, I guess. Being a duelist made school _worse_ , believe it or not, and trying to balance all that was torture.” His fingers reached up to toy with his ring again. “I found out how to get cigarettes through some kid at school and it became my stress reliever.” He looked down at his hands and smiled at the ring, bittersweet. “This thing was how I passed the time when I wanted to smoke, but couldn’t.”

Atem was assaulted with memories of all the times Yugi had messed with his ring since they’d known each other. From day one, he realized. From the very night they’d met each other, Yugi had taken off his ring to play with it. Something strange coiled in his stomach – an emotion he couldn’t name. It was strange, but whatever it was, it made him want to reach back into the past and do _something_ to help.

“I promised myself I was going to quit after I graduated,” Yugi continued. He was remarkably calm, all things considered. “but that didn’t end up working out. I _tried_ to quit about four different times before I turned twenty, and by then I could buy cigarettes whenever I wanted. Which made everything worse, of course. I knew it was bad for me, but I just _couldn’t_ stop.

“Then, I reconnected with him – my ex. We’d been opponents quite a few times in tournament, and when I stop competing, we fell out of touch. He asked me to lunch out of the blue one day, I said yes. It went well, so we kept seeing each other. But we’d been dating for almost a year when he looked me right in the eye and said, ‘I can’t be with someone who’s so determined to die of lung cancer. If you don’t get yourself together, I’m leaving.’”

Atem scrunched up his face in discontent. “He couldn’t have put it _any_ other way?”

Yugi shrugged, half-rolling his eyes. “He was particularly blunt. But it was the kick in the ass I needed to start getting my life back together. He helped me through it all, I celebrated my first year clean with him. I loved him, I really did. And then he betrayed that. For a while I was stuck in hating him and feeling guilty for hating him because he helped me _so_ much, in the darkest place I’ve ever been.”

 Atem didn’t think it was possible to hate this anonymous ex-boyfriend anymore, at least, until this moment. He didn’t know the guy’s name, what he looked like, or how he acted, but just the thought of him brought a sour taste to his mouth. He promised himself that if he somehow ever met this guy, the first thing he’d do was kick him in stomach.

“What did you do?” he asked, forcing himself back on topic.

“I realized it’s okay to feel both.”

“What do you mean?”

Yugi finally extracted his fingers from his ring and rested both his hands face up on his knees. “I can’t forgive how he hurt me, but ignoring how much he _helped_ me just wouldn’t be fair. I can love what he gave me, even if I can’t love the rest of him. Anymore, at least. And,” his voice grew gentler, “I think it might help to look at your situation that way. You can’t forgive what they did, but you can be grateful that they helped you, raised you, and loved you. You _can_ feel both.”

Atem wasn’t cured. It had taken him over a dozen years to get to the point where he could even articulate his feelings toward his parents to another person, and it would take even longer to get to a point where he felt _okay_ about them. But right now? In this singular moment, after spilling a secret he’d been keeping for half his life? It felt like release. It felt like moving on. A weight he hadn’t even realized was present was lifted off his back _. It’s okay to feel both_ , his mind echoed. _You can feel both._

Yep. He was crying again.

"Hey, it's alright," Yugi said, pressing a hand to his trembling shoulder. "We can talk about something else if you're not— _oof."_

Atem had shifted his position on the couch and buried his face in Yugi's shoulder, arms thrown haphazardly around him in a hug that he'd needed since he was sixteen. It was returned immediately, with a similar intensity.

"Tha-ank you," he sobbed, "so much."

"Of course," Yugi said quietly, as if it were simply a fact of life. "You don't have to thank me. I'm here to help you. Always."

"O-okay."

"You don't have to deal with this alone anymore. We're going to get through it together, alright?"

"Oka-ay."

The conversation dropped out, replaced by hiccupping sobs. Neither of them moved from where they sat, holding each other close, until sobs turned to sniffs, and sniffs turned to silence. Atem peeled himself off Yugi's shoulder, sheepishly wiping his eyes.

"You want to watch a movie or something?" Yugi asked, cutting off the unsaid apology that Atem was preparing.

"Are you sure you want to stay?" he asked in return. "It's probably late, and I don't want to keep you."

Yugi nudged him gently. "It's Tuesday. An unconventional one, but still. I'd be out later than this any other week."

He needed this. He really did. It was weird how Yugi always knew what to do – like he could read minds.

"A movie sounds nice," he finally said.

"Have you watched _Inception_ yet?"

Atem rolled his eyes playfully. "No, Yugi, I haven't watched _Inception_ yet."

"How? It's unbelievable!"

"I don't like American movies most of the time. It wasn't even on my radar."

"We're watching it _right_ now, turn the TV on."

Shaking his head, Atem stood up to turn on the TV in the corner of the living room, returning to the couch with the remote as the screen blinked on to a random news channel. The lights flicked off, the room suddenly washed out with the blueish TV light as Yugi scurried back to the couch from the wall switch.

"You should be able to get it on-demand," he instructed, practically bouncing up and down in his seat.

"I'm going, I'm going."

After wrestling with the unintuitive menu for way longer than necessary to start a movie, it was finally on, the logos from various studios and producers filling the screen.

Yugi clapped his hands excitedly. "You're going to love it, I promise."

"I trust you," Atem said.

In that moment, it was a joke. But, as he got comfortable in his seat, he looked out of the corner of his eye at the smiling, already engrossed friend at his side. _I trust you_ , he thought. And he meant it.

 

Atem blinked open his eyes with a jerk, trying to remember when he’d closed them. His mind was hazy and sluggish with sleep, there was a crick in his neck from how he’d been tilting it, and his face was squished up against something black and gold and purple. Weird, he didn’t remember having a pillow that— hey, wait a minute.

He blinked again and lifted his head gently, looking down at the sound asleep Yugi resting on his shoulder, arm pinned to his side, and their hands just barely brushing. If he were more awake, he would have been embarrassed. His tired mind settled for a few butterflies in his stomach instead. It was too late (early?) to worry about that sort of thing.

He twitched his free hand in the direction of the remote, glancing lazily at the TV to see the menu asking him if he wanted to play the movie again. He combed his brain for details about when he’d fallen asleep so he could watch the rest of the movie later, but it was all a blur. He powered the TV off. So much for watching it “right now.”

He yawed hugely, putting the remote back down and covering his mouth. Time for bed. He started to stand up, when his arm tugged, and the reason he was still sitting down murmured nonsense in his sleep. Atem chewed on the inside of his cheek. He didn’t want to wake Yugi, but his neck ached at the thought of sleeping in the same position again for several hours. It also ached in general. They could both stand to be more comfortable.

Carefully, he extracted Yugi from his shoulder, tipping his sleeping body toward the arm of the couch to use as a pillow. Somehow, it worked. He curled himself into a ball and made a sound somewhere between a hum and a groan.

Atem stood up and tip-toed his way out of the living room to the hall closet. He opened the door with what he hoped was an inaudible click, and piled two fluffy red blankets into his arms. He closed the door and returned to the couch, setting one down on the unoccupied space on the couch, and unfolding the other.

He swung the blanket through the air and draped it across Yugi, adjusting it to make sure it covered him as best he could, and that it wouldn’t fall off during the night if he moved in his sleep. He was tucking it around his arms, when Yugi suddenly rolled over onto his back, fists curling the edge of the blanket. Atem was very awake, at that moment, when a childish, ridiculous, impulsive thought crossed his mind.

_It would be so easy to kiss him right now._

He squeezed his eyes shut, as if the thought would be erased from his mind if he stopped looking at what had caused it. It didn’t work, but it did give him the chance to safely dispose of the idea.

When he opened his eyes again, he felt stuck, hovering there above Yugi. Atem reached his hand out, brushing the messy hair out of his face. In his sleep, Yugi smiled.

He sucked in a sharp breath and forced himself to stand up straight. He spun on his heel and stared into the darkness of his home, taking measured breaths and standing stiff as a board, glancing at the second blanket on the couch. He’d been planning to sleep there, too, but _now_?

He yawned again, all of his tiredness returning in full force. Wherever he was sleeping, it had to be decided soon, before he dropped to the ground.

Atem gathered the blanket in his arms, meaning to leave the room, but his sleep addled brain  sat him down on the couch instead. Before he knew it, he had tucked himself in, resting his head against the cushion, knees bent up into his chest and arms wrapped around his ankles.

“Goodnight,” he mumbled into the dark, and closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a quick note for the future: i'm graduating on June 7th (free from college!!) but that means i'm going to be focusing on trying to get and maintain a job. updates will be slowing down while i figure that out, but don't worry, i don't plan to stop updating any time soon!!! 
> 
> another thing that might slow down this fic: i'm planning to participate in PuzzleJune (if life allows) so watch for that! 
> 
> thank you for reading, as always! i love you all to death <3


	7. Happy New Fear!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it’s official: this is the longest chapter of this fic so far, clocking in at 12256 words.
> 
> holy shit guys. this fic is almost over. i’m talkin’ three more chapters at most. i am forever grateful for all the love this fic has gotten and continues to get, and i’m so honored that so many of you have decided to stick with me through this thing <3 
> 
> fun fact: did you know that NYE this year is on a tuesday? it’s true! come back and reread this chapter on dec. 31st, 2019 for an Authentic Fan Fiction Experience

If Domino was anything, it was untraditional. With a high-tech game company like KaibaCorp, among others, attracting the attention of a lot of young people itching to buck the customs of their parents and grandparents, it was almost expected for most holiday traditions to go out the window along with everything else. The traditions were still around, of course, because culture likes to stick around, but there were particular cracks in the hull that gave away the youth of the population.

Case in point: _Shōgatsu_. Most places of business closed down for one of the most important holidays in Japan, with a few blips of activity here and there during the New Year's celebrations. A sale here, a countdown party there, a few restaurants open for sure. In older places, it was easy to ignore the party-going youngsters for the more familiar events – the one-hundred-and-eight bell rings, cleaning the house top to bottom, _mochi, osechi_ , and the like.

But every New Year in Domino was greeted with enough lights to rival the Milky Way. Especially on New Year's Eve, the night life in the city was twice as active, as everyone flooded the streets to celebrate the new year drinking, dancing, and singing bad karaoke until the magical midnight hour.

As a special treat, the Pharaoh's Throne held a tradition of hosting its own karaoke night on New Year's Eve. Atem figured that if everyone in Domino was going to be drunk off their asses for one night out of the year, he should at least offer them an incentive to get drunk off their asses at _his_ establishment.

It had been moderately successful over the years, but then again, most bars saw attendance skyrocket over the holidays where people drink themselves half to death for no reason. Not that he was complaining. And no matter how annoying the singing of drunk customers got, he would defend this self-made tradition to the grave.

Unfortunately, around the time of its execution was always the hardest time to defend it, even as a stalwart supporter. And this year was no different.

It was hardly nine-thirty and the influx of people had Atem wondering if three bartenders behind the counter was even _enough_. Everywhere he looked, there was somebody else trying to catch the attention of him, Mai, or Keith. That wasn’t even mentioning the dimmed lights that made it hard to see, and the cacophony of music and sounds (probably words) that made it hard to think straight, much less keep track of the three – no, _four_ – drinks he had to mix. And _where_ did the Absolut go?

Atem stared blankly at the spot the vodka used to be. He had just set it down, so where was it? He looked all around his workspace, which wasn't very big, and concluded it must have gotten up and walked away.

"Hey, Keith," he said, calling the employee behind him, "did you see where the Absolut— oh."

He turned just in time to spot the blond American with the vodka bottle in one hand and a shot glass in the other, its contents currently in his mouth.

Atem didn't have a problem with his employees drinking on the job – he did it all the time – as long as they didn't get completely wasted. Especially on busy nights like these, an extra kick was useful to keep oneself going. But _come on_.

Keith swallowed and tipped the Absolut his way. "All yours, Boss.”

Atem snatched it out of his hand, and raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "You couldn't have used the Grey Goose?" He gestured toward the row of alcohol in front of them, lining the back wall.

Keith shrugged. "You had the bottle right there."

"Because I was using it." He measured some of the vodka into a glass to prove his point.

"Hey, you've got it now, right?" Keith clapped him on the shoulder – and considering Atem's short stature, it knocked him around quite a bit – before disappearing into the endless crowd of New Year's partygoers with a tray and half a dozen frothing pints.

Atem shook his head and got back to work. _Americans._

It was only a thought for a moment before he was pouring, shaking, and mixing, turning around with his best retail worker smile, and moving on to the next person to do it all again.

There was always an interesting conflict of emotions working busy nights. On one hand, it was why he opened a bar in the first place – to whip up a party and be the maker of crazy memories. It was _fun_ to mix a dozen drinks in a minute, maybe even get to show off little – those bartending flair classes weren't for nothing, after all. It kept him on his feet, it kept his hands busy, it let him be creative and excited and entertaining. Meeting people was just the icing on the cake, but it was always the best part, the perfect complement to a job like this.

On the other hand, if he heard the words "Old Fashioned" _one more time_ , he would have an aneurism and drop dead.

Atem collected another list of drinks in his head, turned around to start making them, and could almost feel his energy dripping away. He only had so much fuel in his body.

He gave a nearby liquor bottle a long, heavy look.

As inconspicuous as possible, he gathered all his materials, plus one extra shot glass from a lower shelf. It was a pretty little thing, engraved with a golden Eye of Horus on one side, and on the bottom read "Love, The Ishtar Cousins."

He popped open the liquor bottle and poured himself a little treat. He shot it back, shook himself out, and jumped right back into the madness with an encouraging burn in his throat.

Three pours later, he turned around with a long-stemmed glass pinched between two fingers and a couple of lowballs in the other. He set them all down in front of a customer and listed them off. "One Cosmopolitan, one Black Russian, and one Whiskey Sour. Enjoy."

"Thank you," they said, gathering the drinks up. "Happy New Year!"

"Happy New Year," he replied, only half paying attention as he glanced down the counter for any other waiting customers. Mai and Keith seemed to be handling themselves, and people walking in were distracted by the karaoke (they were singing English songs now, even less legibly) long enough to give him a breather. For about twenty seconds, anyway.

He took that time to clean up his workspace, sparing a glance to his watch, then out to the crowd, scanning over the people, searching. When he didn’t see the faces he was looking for, he frowned – it was almost ten. _They should be here any minute_ , he noted.

The door opened, revealing another wave of excited partygoers and releasing the cacophony of noise into the night. He wouldn’t have paid any closer attention if he didn’t hear a familiar voice in a familiar language say, “ _It’s incredibly loud in here._ ”

Atem perked up like an excited dog as his cousins pushed their way through the entrance to the bar, shrugging of their winter coats to reveal that all three of them were dressed to party. Which meant Marik was dressed head to toe in sequins, like normal, Isis wore a simple black and white scoop-neck dress, and Rishid had on dark jeans and long-sleeved t-shirt, which was about as crazy as his wardrobe got. Isis’ face was screwed up in a half-grimace, and he could tell she was trying not to clamp her hands over her ears, while Marik just rolled his eyes at her. Rishid scanned the interior with an approving half-smile.

Atem waved the three of them over and gave the best half-hugs he could manage leaning over the counter. “ _Happy New Year,_ ” he said in Arabic, just to make sure his words wouldn’t be caught in the syllabic soup of the rest of the noise. “ _I’m so glad you guys could make it_.”

“ _Of course_ ,” Isis said, pulling out a stool to sit, draping her jacket over her lap.

“ _Wouldn’t miss it for the world_ ,” Marik insisted, throwing his coat over his shoulder and _literally_ shimmering in the low light. Atem cocked a brow.

“ _Do you have glitter in your hair already_?” he asked, reaching toward a particularly shiny strand. Marik slapped his hand out of the way.

“ _It’s already packed, I see_ ,” Rishid said, patting his little brother on the shoulder.

“ _And about to get even more crowded,_ ” Atem promised, then spread his hands to the three of them.  “ _Can I get you anything or are you going to head right to the spotlight?_ ” He gestured toward the makeshift stage the bar had set up: a slightly raised floor on wheels, locked to keep it from moving, with the karaoke machine in the corner. Thanks to the dimmed lights, the flashing neon lighting on the system was visible even through the crowd.

“ _Don’t you worry_ ,” Marik said. “ _I don’t need to be drunk to have a good time._ ”

“ _We’re all very aware of that_ ,” Isis mumbled, just loud enough for them all to hear. Marik stuck out his tongue at her, while she pretended to look innocent. “ _I’ll have a martini_ ,” she added.

“ _Dry_?” Atem asked.

“ _Please_.” She glanced none to subtly at the karaoke crowd, now clapping as the most recent song ended. “ _I’ll need it_.”

“ _I’ll take a line of the Purple Motherfuckers_ ,” Marik said.

“ _And I’m driving_ ,” Rishid said, spinning a keychain on his finger.

“ _Alright_ ,” Atem said, clapping his hands together, “ _it’ll be out in a bit. Enjoy yourself in the meantime_.”

“ _Oh, I will_ ,” Marik said, sauntering off into the crowd. Rishid nodded kindly and followed behind him. Isis remained at her seat, hands folded politely.

“ _You’re not joining them_?” Atem asked, gathering ingredients.

“ _I’m going to stay as far from the ‘music’ as possible,”_ she said, emphasizing her point with air quotes.

Despite his undying love for New Year’s karaoke, it was hard not to agree with her sentiment. “ _There’s no escaping it_.”

“Isis!”

Their conversation was interrupted by an incoming Mai, making her way down the bar with a drink in hand and a towel flung over her shoulder. She was positively beaming at Isis, and, to Atem’s surprise, Isis was smiling _back_.

“I haven’t seen you in _ages_ ,” Mai said, also performing an awkward one-armed hug, but it looked a lot more comfortable when she did it. “How _are_ you, babe?”

It took all Atem had for his jaw not to drop to the floor. Isis _barely_ tolerated nicknames, there was no way she’d be okay with something so familiar.

“Busy as usual,” Isis replied, not a single hair out of place. “I’d be happy to catch up some time. Perhaps lunch?”

“Perfect,” Mai agreed. “I’ll text you.” She left with the drink and most of Atem’s composure. He turned to his cousin, flabbergasted. She smiled.

“Since when are you ‘babe’?” he asked, too incredulous to ask in Arabic, and because he hoped Mai would overhear his distress and spill the details at the end of their shift.

“Since Mai and I have become close friends,” Isis answered, also switching back to Japanese.

Atem was _reeling_. “If I called you anything racier than _habibti_ you’d kill me!” 

“We’re cousins. It’s quite different.”

“It totally isn’t.”

“It is.”

Atem knew he was never going to win this argument, but that didn’t stop him from trying. “You’re telling me that my _employees_ can address you in a more familiar manner than I can?”

“Employ _ee_.”

“So just Mai?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

 He forced himself to continue working instead of gossiping, shoveling ice into a shaker for Isis’ martini. “This conversation is far from over,” he warned.

“Why are you so interested?”

Atem snorted so hard he almost dropped the vermouth. “Because you haven’t had a love life since I was a teenager.”

“Untrue. And what makes you so sure this is about my love life?”

He closed the shaker and rattled the drink around inside, giving Isis a look that said, _You don’t seriously expect me to believe that, right?_

“You’re not going to drop this, are you?”

He strained her drink into a cocktail glass and plucked an olive from a jar, skewering it with a toothpick. “Not a chance.”

She flipped her hair and folded her legs. “Well, if you’re so interested in _my_ personal life, why don’t we talk about yours?”

He set the drink down in front of her with a flourish. “Happily.”

She took a sip of her drink. “How’s Yugi?”

Atem smiled. Predictable. Easy. He could answer this one truthfully and not have to completely embarrass himself.

“I have,” he replied, pausing to flip a bottle of Blue Curaçao in the air, catching it by the neck before setting it down on the counter, “absolutely no idea.”

“ _No_ idea?”

“Haven’t seen him since the beginning of the month.” He set out a line of eight shot glasses on a small tray and took down a container of cranberry juice from a shelf behind him.

 “Really?”

He measured the Curaçao into a different shaker, along with vodka, blueberry schnapps, and just enough cranberry juice to turn the mixture purple. “He’s been away visiting family. Shouldn’t you know that?”

“Of course I do. He did have to clear it with me, after all.”

Atem shook up the purple cocktail. “So why do you think I know anything more than you?”

“There isn’t a moment of your day that you _don’t_ have something to say about Yugi.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

Isis scoffed into her drink. “Have you ever listened to yourself?”

In this line of work, it was hard _not_ to be listening to himself all the time, and most of his conversations were completely normal – minus all the drunk customers that told him their life stories –

but it would be lying to claim he didn’t talk about Yugi at every opportunity with anyone who was willing to listen. Even so, that was no reason to let Isis think she’d won.

“I listen to myself all the time, thanks,” he said. “And I talk about my friends a perfectly average amount.”

“You need to get your hearing checked.”

He _tsk-_ ed as he poured the line of shot glasses full. “If you’re _so_ concerned with how Yugi is, you can ask him yourself.”

She raised a brow. “Is he here?”

“Later he will be, and you can interrogate him all you like.”

“How generous.”

He shrugged and set the shot tray on a serving tray, propping it up on one hand. “It’s only fair, considering I’m going to be interrogating _you_ later.”

“You wish.”

Atem swung himself around the bar to meet Isis face to face. “Like you can stop me?” Before she had a chance to answer, he slipped through the crowd of people, tray held high above his head, trying to spot wherever Marik and Rishid had taken up residence for the evening.

He got smiled and waved at by his regulars here and there, a few of them shouting “Happy New Year,” his direction – which he happily shouted back – along with a few random strangers too drunk to be shy about greeting someone they didn’t know. A more than expected number of people (zero was the expected number) asked him if he was going to get up and sing. His answer was a definitive _not for me, but you all have fun_. The karaoke provided entertainment _for_ him, not _of_ him.

He finally did find his two other cousins at a table right near the action of the karaoke singers, somehow not already claimed.

“Impressive spot,” he said, in lieu of greeting. “How’d you score this?”

“Used to be a group of six here,” Marik explained, as if he was talking about what he had for lunch, “but they got up and left as soon as Rishid stared them down for a couple seconds.” Rishid shrugged and smiled sheepishly.

“No frightening off my customers, you two,” Atem warned, setting down the Purple Motherfuckers in front of his youngest cousin.

“Yeah, yeah,” Marik mumbled, kicking up his feet on an empty chair and dragging the shots closer.

“Did you really need a table big enough for six people?” Atem asked, folding the serving tray under his arm.

Marik knocked back a shot, and gestured to Rishid vaguely. The “gentle” giant took up the mantle of speaking. “We’re saving spots for friends.”

Marik had a lot of friends, so that wasn’t very specific. “Which ones?”

“Yugi, Ryou, and the rest of the group, as well.”

“Oh yeah, right.” Even though it had been months, the fact that his friends knew his family members was a crossed wire Atem couldn’t seem to get used to. It was like seeing a teacher go to the grocery store when you were ten. “I’ll point them to you when they get here.”

"Rishid is hard to miss," Marik commented.

"Have you seen the state of this place?" Atem gestured around at the ocean of people. Marik surveyed the crowd like he was at an auction. 

"They might have a little trouble,” he concluded.

Atem sidled away from the table, jerking his thumb over his shoulder toward the bar. "Holler if you need anything."

"You won't hear us."

"Isis will."

The Ishtar brothers looked at each other and shrugged in a _yeah, but what can you do_? manner. Atem turned around and swerved his way back to the bar counter intact, if slightly rumpled.

"Alright," he huffed to himself, sliding the serving tray back where it belonged, already looking for the next waiting customer. 

"What time is Yugi expected?" Isis asked over the rim of her glass.

Atem made sure he saw nobody waiting, then lifted his watch. "Well, it's ten-ten now, so around five minutes?" 

She nodded, apparently satisfied. "Wonderful. You'll have time to prepare."

He quirked an eyebrow. Was Yugi bringing more of an entourage than just the usual crowd? "Prepare what?"

"Yourself." She took a sip of her martini like it was the end of the conversation.

"Okay, I'll bite," he said, his job temporarily forgotten. "Prepare myself for _what_ , exactly?"

"For—"

The door opened and she glanced behind her. Atem wasn’t interested in another wave of customers – he just waited for her to turn around and answer him. It was a choice he regretted as soon as she _actually_ turned around, with a smirk that screamed "cat who caught the canary."

"For _that_ ," she said simply, before he could ask. 

He peeked over her shoulder and…

Oh no.

Standing in the entrance was the whole group: Ryou, Anzu, Honda, Jou, and Yugi – early, obviously. But that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that they all decided to look _nice_.

They all cleaned up well, to be perfectly honest. He wasn’t sure why New Year’s Eve was the one night everyone decided to dress their best to sit around in a dimly lit bar all night, but he couldn’t fault them, nor did he want to. They weren’t wearing anything too crazy – nice button downs and jeans, Anzu bringing a splash of color into the mix with a pink pattered floral skirt, clothes that were easy to move in while still looking stylish. But, predictable to even himself, he had to keep from gawking, staring, and drooling – in that order – at Yugi even more than usual.

Contrary to the rest of the group, Yugi had decided to go all out on the “party” aspect of “New Year’s Eve party.” He was wearing a silver button-down so sheer it was practically see-through, tucked into what looked like black skinny jeans, but Atem would never know. He feared that if he looked any lower than that, he’d have a stroke.

Focusing on Yugi’s face didn’t do him any better, because he was wearing silver ear chains with little stars dangling from the lobe, and  – of all things – a _collar_ around his neck along with his usual necklace, and that just brought _way_ too many things to the front of his mind that definitely shouldn’t be there.

Oh, and the eyeliner. Can’t forget about the eyeliner.

All in all, Atem could have sworn he’d died three times before the group even noticed him. He tried to scrounge up what was left of his sanity to smile and wave as they approached. Yugi waved back and his mind _exploded_. It was at least ten degrees warmer. He blinked, hard, as if that would help.

 _He’s just a normal customer_ , he tried to convince himself. _Just treat him like you would treat anyone else_.

“Happy New Year!” he blurted as Anzu lead the procession to the bar counter.

“Happy New Year, yourself,” she replied. “The place looks awesome.”

“Thanks. You all—You all look great, too!” He gestured to the group with one hand, and spied Yugi catching up with Isis out of the corner of his eye. Good. Maybe he hadn’t seen most of Atem’s brain had fall out. “Marik saved a table for you all,” He pointed across the building, past the sea of people. “He got you a front row seat.”

“Nice,” Jou said, “we can be right next to music.”

“I’m totally gonna sing,” Honda promised.

“No you are _not_.”

“You can’t stop me.”

“You have all night to argue about it,” Atem cut in. “Can I get anybody anything?”

They all put in their orders, one after another – a Guinness each for Jou and Honda, club soda with a lime for Anzu, a Sidecar for Ryou. Which made four out of five. He was afraid to ask for the fifth, unmentioned person’s drink.

Unfortunately, someone did it for him.

“Hey, Yug’,” Jou said, nudging his friend in the back, “do you want anything?”

Yugi flipped around from his conversation with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, sorry, she ambushed me.”

“Guilty as charged,” Isis said, waving to the group.

Yugi laughed and smiled Atem’s way. “Happy New Year, by the way.”

He had _just_ gotten his brain working again, too. “Y-you too. Can I get you anything?”

“The usual is fine.”

Jou let out a low whistle. “This hotshot has a _usual_ , how fancy.” Yugi snorted and shoved him.

“What kind of whiskey do you want?” Atem asked. He had to shift into _full_ customer service mode, or he was never going to survive. He distracted his hands and eyes with setting his up his _mise en place_.

Yugi set one arm on the counter and peeked over his shoulder to peruse the line of alcohol in the back. “Do you still have that Hibiki Harmony?”

“Fresh out. But I do have a Yamazaki if you like.”

Instead of answering, he put both his elbows on the counter and laced his fingers together – he painted his nails, too, apparently. “Just surprise me. You know what I like at this point.”

Atem was _not_ going to look at that collar. He just wasn’t going to do it. Ever. He’d gouge out his own eyes to avoid it.

“Got it,” he ground out, plastering a friendly smile on his face and tearing his eyes away from Yugi to address the rest of the group. “It’ll all be out in just a bit. Enjoy yourselves.”

They all assured him they would and disappeared into the crowd, Yugi trailing one of his hands down the counter as he left. Atem was left staring at the place it had just occupied.

He was running on fumes. That single interaction had drained him for the entire night. He could feel the gears in his brain chugging. He could barely remember the orders he was supposed to make. Hell, he could barely remember his _name_.

“ _Are you still breathing_?” Isis asked, gracefully switching to Arabic. She snapped her fingers in front of his face. He shook himself out of his stupor. His cousin thumbed the edge of her martini glass with a teasing smile. “ _I haven’t seen you that gone in a while_.”

Atem didn’t even give her the satisfaction of a response. He just stared down at the glasses he had set in front of him, took a deep breath, and said, “I need a drink.”

 

 

And he had his drink. When he picked out a whiskey to mix Yugi’s drink – fruity and rich, with a little smoke – he poured a bit for himself in his special shot glass to keep his brain functioning through the rest of the night. Okay, _maybe_ he had two.

And it helped, at least in the sense that he didn’t have enough inhibitions to care about saying something stupid. But it _didn’t_ help him stop talking. Or singing. Or dancing.

See, the karaoke singers had switched back to Japanese songs for a bit, and then gotten to singing English rock songs, for whatever reason. Normally this would be of no consequence to him – it was just a different kind of background noise. But as the night wore on, and the hum in his brain lowered to a buzz, he found he actually _really liked_ the music. He couldn’t understand any of the words, but that didn’t matter, right? He could say the sounds he _did_ recognize in some sort of key and that would totally count as singing.

Currently, he was shaking up another customer’s drink – he knew what it was when he poured it in there, but now? No idea – and using the shaker like a microphone to mumble confidently along to a song he didn’t know.

“Somethin’, somethin’, _livin’ on a pra-ayer_!” he sang, spinning around and strumming an air guitar.

“You’re a natural,” Isis said, rolling her eyes, and taking a sip from the glass of water she’d asked for after finishing her martini.

Atem laughed, louder than he meant to. “I know right? I should’ve been a pop star.”

“You would have made millions.”

“ _Billions_.”

“Let’s not get crazy, now.”

He brushed her words out of the air. “Whatever, you’re just jealous.”

Atem opened the lid of the shaker to sniff and – oh yeah, it was a Hurricane. He set the shaker down and spun around to find a Hurricane glass and immediately saw one sitting by itself, full of ice and waiting. Had that been there the whole time? Had _he_ set it there?

Regardless, he picked it up and poured the drink, sticking a straw and a cherry on the top. He waved down the customer who ordered it and sent them on their way.

“Happy New Year!” he called. Man, New Year’s was _great_. He wished there was a New Year’s every year. Wait—

He cut off his thoughts as he saw someone familiar approach the bar. It was – hey, that was Yugi! He instantly brightened up and slid down the bar to meet him.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite regular,” Atem said, resting his chin in his hand.

Yugi tilted his head with a curious smile. “I’m your favorite?”

Atem shushed him dramatically, leaning forward to whisper, “Don’t let the others hear you, they might get jealous.”

He kept his smile. “You’re buzzed, aren’t you?”

Atem leaned back and shrugged. “Eh, maybe a little. Anyway, what can I do for you?”

“A refill?” He put down an empty lowball glass on counter and slid it forward. Atem took it and set it behind the counter.

“Can do. How’d you like the selection?”

“Oh, it was wonderful. If you have more of that—”

Atem snapped his fingers and gasped. “I just remembered, we _just_ got this new single malt scotch in the other day. It’s called La- Laug- Lagavulin? Or something?”

Yugi laughed and played with the dangling chain in one ear. “Is it good?”

“You’d love it. Here.” He spun around and squinted at the endless labels of scotch whiskey until he found the right one – it _was_ Lagavulin – and plucked it from the bunch. He showed it off to Yugi.

He looked it over and nodded. “That _does_ sound good.”

“Let’s pop it open then.”

He fixed the drink with the chosen whiskey, humming and bobbing his head along to the music, singing along to the words he could pronounce semi- to not-at-all-accurately. When he was done, he presented the glass like a game show host, and just as dramatically.

“One whiskey on the rocks,” he said, “for my _favorite_ regular.”

Yugi stared at him for a moment before he took the glass, a strange look in his eye. It passed as

he lifted the whiskey to sip, and right away said, “Wow, this is good.”

Atem leaned on one arm and tipped his head to the side. “You said it yourself. I know what you like.” He winked for good measure. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but it was _fun_.

Yugi blinked like he’d been startled, a breathless smile growing on his face. “Y-yeah. Thanks.”

“No problem.” He stood up straight and rubbed his hands together. “Enjoy.”

“I—Yeah, I will.”

Yugi walked away, and Atem could have sworn he lifted a hand to chest for a split second. He stared after that sheer silver back, smiling like a lovesick puppy until something slid across the counter and bumped his arm. He picked it up – a glass of water? He glanced around to find Mai resting her hip against the counter.

“Drink that,” she ordered.

“Why?”

“Trust me, honey. Drink it. You’ll thank me later.”

He shrugged and drank it. It was cold. "Now what?" he asked, putting the empty glass down.

"Back to work," she said, and stepped away.

So he did, noticing a clump of people near the front of the building that needed some attention. Isis was still sitting there, and every so often he leaned over to half-sing whatever song was playing and continue performing air-guitar moves. She just shook her head in exasperation, but everyone _else_ seemed to enjoy it.

After a good while applying himself on the job, the water worked its way into his system. A lot of the heavier buzz was gone, and he was sane enough to keep a glass of water next to him, but he was still oblivious enough to common sense to perform a bit more than usual.

"Everybody ready?" he asked, three liquor bottles dangling between his fingers, two in one hand. A couple people in the small crowd gathered at the counter cheered. "Let's do this."

Atem threw the liquor bottles in the air, one after another, watching them as they came down, catching them by the neck and tossing them back up again. His hands worked quickly, always where the bottles would land a half a second before they got there, ready to move at a moment's notice. There was a small moment where all three of them hung in the air at once. He spun around as fast as he could, turning around just in time to catch the falling bottles and keep the cycle going. 

For a few more seconds, he juggled the bottles before finally catching them, one after another, between his fingers where they started. He was met with a round of drunk cheers and applause, and bowed at the waist.

"Hope I earned that tip tonight," he said, and his audience laughed. He pointed to two people shoved near the front. "Two Daiquiris, one with a lime, right? Don't worry, that's not how I mix drinks."

He whipped up the orders and presented them to his customers, chatting casually with whoever was talking at him the loudest. 

"No, I will _not_ set it on fire," he said, half-shouting his response as he searched through the crowd. "Who said that? No way."

At least four people cheered in favor of Atem setting his cleaning rag on fire and juggling _that_ too. 

He laughed at their enthusiasm. "You're all crazy! I'm making sure the building is still standing by the end of the night. Who else needs something that _doesn't_ involve fire?" 

He continued dishing out orders, now and then doing tricks with bottles, empty shakers, and glasses, continuing to sip on water until he could reasonably make decisions. And _wow_ he really should _not_ have juggled three liquor bottles at once. And _why, oh why,_ did he think it was a good idea to talk to Yugi like that?

He tried not to be retroactively mortified at himself by keeping busy – and busy he was. The closer and closer the midnight hour came, the more people he seemed to serve. He was only barely keeping up with what time it was, and he _needed_ to keep track of that. Traditions needed to be upheld, of course. 

He didn't see Yugi again, at least not up close. He could have sworn he saw a flash of silver shove Anzu onto the stage to sing, but there were approximately fifty million people between him and seeing what the hell was going on over there, so it could have been his imagination. He tried not to be too disappointed. Really, he wanted to apologize for everything he'd said earlier, but then again, he could hardly _speak_ to Yugi without three shots sloshing around in his brain. Maybe it was for the best. 

"Hey Boss!" 

Atem jumped at the ever-loud voice of Keith. "Yes?"

"It's about that time, isn't it?" he asked, gesturing to his empty wrist.

Atem looked down at his watch. It wasn't that late already, right? It was only—

"Oh, _shit_ ," he said. He nodded at Keith in thanks before swiping his half-finished glass of water and hoofing it to the stage.

He got about halfway there before something yanked on his arm and spun him around the way he came. He held his water above his head so he wouldn’t spill it.

"What is _up_ , my man?" crowed a drunk woman, arm in arm with a friend, and simultaneously trying to pull Atem into a hug.

"Uh, hi, Tatsumi," he said, giving her a quick squeeze and jumping back. She was one of his regulars. One of his _very_ drunk regulars.

"Dude," she slurred, "man, I'm having _such_ the greatest time tonight, dude."

"That's awesome, thank you, but I—"

"Your fucking tricks, dude? The sickest."

"Ha, thanks, it's been nice catching—"

She gasped, but looked more like a fish on dry land. "Dude, you don't know Shinobu, do you?" Tatsumi pulled her friend in front of her and right in front of Atem. "She's my bestest friend ever, here she is."

"Hey there," he said, waving awkwardly.

Shinobu didn't say anything, but she did smile hazily, half-awake at best.

She was yanked aside to reveal Tatsumi again. "We need to hang out more, man, together all of us."

He nodded, glancing over his shoulder at the stage. “Totally, but not right now, because I have to—”

“There’s no present time like the time present!” Tatsumi said confidently, then stopped to look confused at herself. “Time… present… whatever, let’s go.”

Atem’s arm was yanked on again, but he yanked it back. “Sorry, I can’t.”

“What? Come on dude, it’s New Years’ time.”

“Sorry, maybe later, I have to _go_.”

“Psh, no way—”

“Atem!”

He clutched his water glass in both hands, preparing himself to be pulled apart like a human tug-of-war as another person came up behind him and slung an arm around his shoulders. A very _silver_ arm.

“Yugi?” he realized, not sure if he was blessed or cursed.

It was definitely Yugi – Atem was right at neck height, and that was _definitely_ Yugi. He made a point of looking straight ahead, and thinking about literally anything else.

“Sorry, ladies,” Yugi said, not sounding sorry at all. “I have to steal him from you.”

Tatsumi’s eyes flicked between the two of them and her insistence to hang out vanished. “ _Ooh_ ,” she said, as if realizing something profound. “Yeah, man, you two have a good time.”

Yugi smiled and knocked his head against Atem’s, wiggling the fingers on his unoccupied arm in a cheeky goodbye. “We will,” he promised, swinging them both around and through the crowd.

“Thanks,” Atem said, as soon as they were out of earshot. “I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to get away from them.” He untangled himself from Yugi’s arm, still sitting heavy around his shoulders.

Yugi, however, seemed determined to have some form of contact, and linked their arms together as they walked. “No problem. I could see you were, like, trying to get away so I _did_ something, y’know?”

Atem blinked at the sudden slur in his voice. “You’re tipsy.”

“Nah, not even a little bit.”

Undermining his point, they had to swerve around a table in their way, and he stumbled dramatically to one side, dragging Atem with him. He was still trying to save his glass of water.

“Maybe a little bit,” Yugi mumbled.

“I think you need to go sit down.”

They were almost at the stage now. Atem glanced at his watch – perfect timing. He slipped his arm away and gently pushed Yugi toward his table.

“Aw, come on,” he complained.

“I have to take care of something anyway. Go, sit, drink water.”

He slipped his way through the rest of the crowd, just barely catching Yugi scoff in his direction, adjusting the collar around his neck.

Atem shook his head and tugged at the neck of his own shirt, breathing out slow. He was sweating. A lot.

When he reached the stage, Mai was already waiting for him.

“Cutting it a little close,” she commented.

“I got ambushed,” he explained. “Don’t ask.”

She shrugged. “The stage is ready when you are.”

“Thanks.” Atem checked his watch again. He really had to go _now_.

He stepped up to the edge of the raised platform, his hands and feet jittering. It was practically part of the tradition at this point. He shook himself out, took a deep breath, and jumped up on the stage. He did his best to avoid looking at the crowd as he took the shitty karaoke microphone into his hand, somehow surviving glass of water in the other.

“Hey everyone,” he said, staring at the wall across the room, “it’s getting to be about that time. Don’t worry, I’m not going to sing.” He said that every year, but always got laughs anyway. Why fix what wasn’t broken? “If you don’t have any idea what’s going on, we have a tradition here at the Pharaoh’s Throne that I give a little speech before the countdown to midnight. And if you don’t know who _I_ am, then ask a regular.” Again, repeated joke. Still got laughs. It was probably the alcohol.

He started the _actual_ speech, the part he prepared in the mirror until he had it memorized. “Now, I don’t know about all of you, but for me, this year has been _pretty_ batshit crazy.” A few people clapped, a few more whooped in agreement. “A lot of things happened at once, for me and for the people around me, and I’m just glad we all survived.” He looked at his watch again. He was going to have to cut this short. “But of course, this year would not have been half as enjoyable if not for everyone I meet on the job—” he gestured all around “—my family—” he waved to the back at Isis, and down and front to Marik and Rishid “—and a very special group of friends I made this year.”

He kept his hand in the same place, smiling down at all five of the closest friends he’d ever made in his life. They smiled enthusiastically back at him. Yugi waved, Jou said something loud and unintelligible, Honda agreed with whatever it was, Anzu and Ryou laughed at both of them.

“So, thank you,” Atem finished, looking back up to address the room. “thank you to _everybody_ for being here tonight.” He checked his watch one last time. “And it’s time to start the countdown. Let’s all celebrate the new year right. Ten—” he started, keeping count on his watch, and the entire room joined in with him.

“Nine!” His nerves went numb at the sound of everyone counting together. They always did.

“Eight!” He thought of his friends.

“Seven!” He was so grateful for them.

“Six!” He would never truly be able to thank them properly.

“Five!” They’d done so much for him that they would never know.

“Four!” Especially Yugi.

“Three!” Despite all the awkwardness, he was so grateful for the time they spent together.

“Two!” For every moment he felt stupid, for every time he tripped over his own tongue, for every time he slipped up – literally or figuratively. Because Yugi was there, and that made everything okay.

“One!”

Everyone was clapping, cheering, drinking, some people were kissing, but Atem just stood on that stage completely still, water in his hand forgotten. He felt _awakened_ about something, like he’d been slapped in the face by enlightenment. He had exactly one thought in his head:

_Is this what being in love feels like?_

And then decided: _Yeah. I think it is_.

He had enough of his senses left to say, “Have a good night, everyone,” into the microphone, setting it back on the karaoke machine, and step down from the stage. He smiled when he noticed all of his friends were there waiting for him in a big group. They all looked excited, like they were waiting for something.

“Hey guys,” he said. “What’s the big— _oof_.”

Something vaguely person shaped collided with most of his body, the glass of water was snatched from his hand, and he was unceremoniously shoved back onstage with a microphone shoved into his hands.

“Uh,” he said, giving the crowd a curious look. “I guess I’m back?”

A round of snickering caught his attention, and he glanced back to where the group was situated, barricading the edge of the stage he’d tried to leave from. He put out his arms in a _What the hell is going on_? gesture.

Then, he heard something worse:

The karaoke machine.

Atem whirled around and saw none other than Yugi, setting up the machine for another round, rolling through the selection of songs.

“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded, keeping the microphone away from his mouth.

“You _mean_ ,” Yugi corrected, taking a second mic from its holder and wiggling it, “what the hell are _we_ doing.”

“What?”

He looked at his mic. He looked at Yugi. He looked at the karaoke machine.

“No.”

Atem spun on his heel and walked away, dodging a lazy swipe from Yugi, but he only got as far as the edge of the stage before he hit the metaphorical wall.

“Sorry, bud,” Honda said, standing like a bouncer with his arms crossed.

“You realize I can just walk the other way, right?”

“You sure?”

Confused, he turned around to face the head of the stage and—

Rishid, the human battering ram, an entire foot taller and somehow _still_ faster than Atem, waved at him from where he stood, also standing like a bouncer, at the table with Marik. “Sorry.”

God dammit.

Atem marched back up to center stage and announced, “My friends, everyone. Betraying me.”

“Come on,” Yugi insisted, still picking a song, “it’ll be fun.”

“Maybe for _you_.” He craned his neck over the group, until he saw Mai, leaning against the back wall. He gave her a look that said _Help me, would you?_

She held up her hands, wrist to wrist, and shrugged. “My hands are tied,” she mouthed.

He rolled his eyes. He was on his own. Yugi finally seemed to have found a song he liked, because Atem heard the sound of the selection. The lights on the machine lit up tremendously.

“I’m _not_ doing this,” he insisted. He stuck the microphone in its holder on the karaoke machine and walked to the edge of the stage, psyching himself up to fight through his friends as hard as possible.

Then the music started.

And he froze.

“ _Hakuna Matata_ ,” Yugi sang, breathy and airy like a sigh.

Atem closed his eyes and huffed through his nose. _Why did I ever tell him my favorite movie?_

“ _What a wonderful phrase_.”

It was too much.

Upon turning around, Atem found that Yugi was already holding out the second mic for him expectantly.

“You owe me one,” he muttered.

He just laughed through the lyrics. “ _Hakuna Matata_.”

Atem forced himself to ignore the crowd, when he sang, “ _Ain’t no passing cra-aze!”_

Just like that, they were off, singing like there was nobody else in the room. It was pretty difficult to do, when most of the room was singing with them, but they managed.

Atem let Yugi have the high harmonies – he didn’t have enough drinks in him to work his voice high enough to sing Simba’s part in public – and he focused on the melody, doing a pretty decent job at Pumba if he did say so himself.

The instrumental part of the song was longer than he remembered. Even though he knew all the words by heart, he glanced at the screen on the karaoke machine anyway. When nothing was forthcoming, the duet looked at each other and laughed. They filled the silence by doing some of the worst dance moves imaginable.

When the music finally came back, they finished with a bang, Yugi hitting Simba’s final high notes spectacularly. Atem was clapping along with the rest of the crowd at the end of it all, Yugi throwing an arm around his shoulder and bowing messily. He still had quite a bit of drink in him, clearly.

“I’m going back down there,” Atem announced to the crowd, pointing at the bar, “and I _will not_ be up here again. Goodnight.” Some people laughed, some people asked him to do another song. He ignored them.

For the second time that night, he slunk out from under Yugi’s arm, ducking back around to stick the mic back where it belonged before jumping off the stage as quickly as possible. He was immediately dogpiled by the excited arms and hands and voices of his friends telling him what an amazing job he did, and soon Yugi was added to that dogpile, both being complimented and doing the complimenting when he could get a word in edgewise. It was like being in an eternal group hug, but everything was moving.

“Guys,” Atem coughed, “you’re kind of crushing my everything.”

Just like that, the hug evaporated, and he could breathe again. He readjusted his rumpled uniform.

“You both did amazing,” Anzu reiterated, leaning on Yugi for support. Or he was leaning on her. It was hard to tell.

“Totally awesome,” Honda agreed.

“Can we take this chat down there?” Atem asked, jerking his thumb at the counter. “I have to get back to work.”

“We’ll meet you down there,” Jou promised, waving him off. “Go get paid and shit.”

“Will do.”

Atem headed back to the bar, knowing he had to at least do the bare minimum of his job, but at the same time, not wanting to go. There was a tug in his chest telling him to go back, like he’d forgotten something important. He shook it off – there would be plenty of time to figure it out.

He got back to his regular spot behind the counter, Isis greeting him with a smile. “Impressive performance,” she said.

“You filmed it, didn’t you?”

“Of course not.”

“Did you tell Marik to film it?”

Her lack of answer was the only confirmation he needed.

 

 

After midnight, everything sped up and slowed down comically fast. People rushed to the counter for a solid thirty minutes, with no conceivable end in sight, but not even two hours later they were filing out the front door as if it was two minutes to close – even the Ishtar’s had left. Eventually, the crowd had shrunk to a regular night. Maybe a bit busier than the average day, but nothing unmanageable.

Not that Atem was complaining about any of it, because it meant he finally got a bit of a break, and an opportunity to actually talk to his friends. They’d each claimed a seat each at the bar, Yugi at his regular spot near the door.

“The two of you,” Anzu continued, aiming her wine glass at Yugi and Atem, “need to start a band or something. _That’s_ how good it was.”

“You looked right at home up there,” Ryou agreed, the only one who wasn’t completely plastered. “I’m surprised you were so against it, Atem.”

He paused in his wiping down of the counter. “Really?” The general consensus was _yeah, really_. “You guys know I have stage fright, don’t you?”

From the way that everyone looked at each other with a mixture of guilt, confusion, and shock, he figured that _no,_ was the answer to that question.

“I’m sure I’ve mentioned it before,” he added.

“No way, dude,” Jou insisted. “We totally would have remembered that.”

“But you looked so confident!” Anzu said.

“I have to go up there for the speech, he explained, “so I learned to work around it.”

“Shit,” Honda said. “If we’d have known—”

“Don’t worry, I had fun.” He looked at Yugi. “ _We_ had fun.”

Yugi nodded, his smiling face propped up by one hand, the other fiddling with a beer bottle. He looked like he was either about to fall asleep or start rambling non-stop, but more likely the former. He hadn’t said much since the group sat down and started chatting, mainly content to sit with a dazed, if happy, expression and nod when addressed. He was completely gone.

The rest of the group returned to their conversation, Atem hiding a smile as he continued to insist that he _really did_ have a good time, despite the nerves.

Atem had to learn to get used to a _lot_ of things about drunk people, every pro and con that could ever be imagined – and most of them were cons. But Yugi had never been anything but endearing to him, even at his very worst. It was even more apparent now.

He felt… different after realizing he was in love with Yugi. Not wrong or bad. Just different. He felt more confident in himself, more in control. Even though it had only been hours, he could feel the difference. His awkwardness hadn’t completely vanished, of course, but he let himself appreciate what he felt instead of trying to frantically hide it from everyone – including himself. There was no more asking questions, no more playing games. He knew exactly what he was feeling and why.

Well, there _was_ one question he still had to ask.

Not right now.

Eventually.

A shrill tone interrupted the conversation and his thoughts. Yugi picked his face up off his hand, and pulled out his ringing phone.

“’Scuse me,” he slurred, hopping off the stool with his beer and swiping the screen to open the call. He wandered off to the back of the bar somewhere. Atem did a quick sweep of the back of the room to make sure he’d be alright by himself. He didn’t see anything odd, but there was a part of him that wanted to bring Yugi back and sit him down with everyone else, just to be safe.

He didn’t do that. Instead, he talked to his friends in between mixing drinks and swiping up payments. It was strange going back to a “regular,” crowd in the same night as being completely slammed, but it was a decent change of pace. He’d prefer a chance to sit down, instead, but this was alright for now.

“This is really cool,” Anzu said, apropos of nothing.

“Hell yeah,” Honda agreed.

“The coolest,” Jou said.

“It’s been a fun night, for sure,” Ryou said.

As the night waned, and the conversations grew less and less coherent – Jou’s “really cool idea  for a game” not actually turning out to be cool _or_ a game – it was obvious that everyone was ready to get home and sleep off the New Year’s celebrations.

Everyone, Atem realized, with a twist in his gut, except Yugi. He still hadn’t come back.

“Hey,” he said, taking Ryou to the side while the other three argued about the definition of cool, “you didn’t see Yugi leave or anything, right?”

He shook his head slowly. “No, I haven’t.”

“Are you taking him back?”

“He came in his own car.” He glanced out the front windows, pensive. “I didn’t see it leave…”

The twist got tighter. “Alright. I’ll ask around. Keep an eye out for me.”

Ryou nodded, face taught with concern. Atem wished he could say he looked any different. He pulled aside Mai and Keith to ask them if they’d seen anything.

“I thought I saw him head to the back a while ago,” Keith mentioned. “But like. A _while_ ago.”

“Thanks,” he said. Better than nothing.

He checked the back of the bar, by the vacant karaoke stage. Nothing. He opened the back door

to make sure he hadn’t gone outside. Not there. He checked the storage room, even though Yugi wouldn’t have had a key to get the door open. Obviously, empty.

Atem ran a nervous hand through his hair, trying not to let his panic take over as he ran through the places he hadn’t checked yet. It was easy to see people through the building, now that the crowd had evaporated, so he hadn’t just gotten lost in the crowd. He scanned everything just in case, looking for that familiar flash of silver, gold bangs, _anything_ —

He almost slapped himself when his eyes passed over the tucked away hall near the back end of the counter. The bathroom.              

Trying to keep his pace below a sprint, he rushed to the little hallway to check. The bathrooms were single stall and there were only three of them. Luckily, wasn’t a line in the way of his investigation. The first one was empty, the second he saw somebody walk out of, which only left the third. It had been closed for as long as he’d been over there.

Atem approached the door to knock, but stopped when he heard a muffled sound. It sounded like someone sniffing. Or sobbing. Was someone... _crying_ in there?

He rapped on the door. “Hello?” he asked. “Is everything okay?”

The sniffling abruptly stopped, and a watery voice asked, “Atem?”

That voice was warbled and muffled, but familiar enough that he knew who it was. “Yeah, it's me. Are you okay?”

There wasn't an answer, but he heard shuffling from inside, like someone standing up from the floor. The handle turned and Atem’s heart broke when the door opened wide enough to reveal Yugi, in a miserable state.

His eyes were watery, red, and puffy. His face was blotchy, and dried tear tracks stained his cheeks. It looked like someone had taken a liquid eyeliner pen across his face, from the bridge of his nose to his temples, and the black stains on the collar of his shirt and the backs of his hands told the story of why. His hair was a mess, falling in his face like he'd been tearing at it. He sniffed and blinked, fresh tears dropping from his eyes.

“Hey, hey,” Atem murmured, holding out a hand. “What happened, what's going on?”

Yugi took the hand offered to him and opened his mouth. Nothing but a tiny squeak came out, and another wave of tears threatened to spill over.

Atem squeezed his hand. “It's okay, you're going to be fine.” He nudged the door with his foot. “Can I come in?”

Yugi nodded and backed away from the door, taking his hand with him and hiding both of them behind his back. Atem stepped through the door and quickly locked it. No one else needed to see this.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked gently, as Yugi retreated to the sink. He shook his head. “Alright, do you want to go back out there?” Another shake. “Do you want to go home?” A pause, then a nod. “Okay, home it is. Let's get you cleaned up first.”

“Okay,” was Yugi's meek response. He turned on the sink and started scrubbing at his face.

Atem busied himself with getting paper towels, but he noticed that several of them sitting crumpled on the floor. Along with them was an empty beer bottle, tipped over, and Yugi's phone. It was open to a contact named, “DO NOT ANSWER,” and a screen that read, “Call ended: 14:52.”

That didn't bode well.

He picked up the phone, clicking it off. He threw away the bottle and spent towels, plucking fresh ones from the dispenser on the wall. The sink behind him turned off. 

“Here,” he said, holding out the towels. Yugi took them wordlessly. “And this, too.” He held the phone out. Yugi took that, too, without comment, slipping it back into his pocket. 

“You’re probably not okay to drive, right?” Atem asked.

“No,” Yugi said quietly, wiping at his face.

“I can get you a ride if—”

“No!”

All the sadness in Yugi’s face suddenly evaporated, replaced by something much, much worse to look at.

Fear. Panic.

“Okay,” Atem said, throwing his hands up in surrender. “No calling you a ride.” Yugi went back to looking sad. It was painful.

On any other night, Atem might have asked _How are you going to get home_? Tonight, he asked something else.

“Would it be alright if I took you back to your place?”

He got a tiny nod, and the ghost of a smile.

“My car, or yours?”

Yugi fished his keys out of his pocket and tossed them.

“Alright. I have to go let everyone know where I’m going. Should I come back for you, or do you want to meet outside?” He picked the unspoken third option and held out his hand in a silent question. Atem smiled and took it. “Yeah, of course.”

He unlocked the door and cut the lights as he led Yugi out of the bathroom. He didn’t look nearly as bad, now, the eyeliner smears and most of the tear tracks gone. His eyes were still red, though. Atem hoped it was only noticeable because he was looking for it.

Returning to the front of the bar was a bit of an ordeal for them both, the group gasping and demanding to know what or who had hurt Yugi so they could yell at it very sternly, but Atem had them all back off.

“He’s not feeling too hot,” he informed them, raising the keys, “but I’m taking him home. I’ll be back for breakdown,” he added to his employees.

Atem went to grab his coat from the front while everyone said their goodbyes and well wishes. Yugi looked like he was just barely tolerating it when he returned.

“Ready?” he asked, holding out his hand again. Yugi took it and nodded.

They stepped out into the mid-winter chill, snow covering the street, and only then did Atem realize that his companion didn’t have a coat. “Didn’t you bring a jacket?” he asked.

He got a very teeth-chattering shake of the head in response that had him immediately tearing off his coat and wrapping it around Yugi’s shoulders. He could sacrifice his own warmth for a bit.

“You’re wearing half a shirt at best,” he chastised, but it held no real bluster. A tiny giggle met his ears, and it was the only response he needed.

They jogged to the parking lot, shoes crunching under the flakes on their way. Yugi was looking all around, but not for his car, which was clearly visible. He looked like he was on watch for something, waiting for an ambush. His eyes locked on a silver sports car, parked across the street. Even when they reached their destination, he didn’t take his eyes off it.

“Everything okay?” Atem asked, glancing back to look at the car as well. It was just a normal car. A bit ostentatious, sure, but that was _all_ sports cars. It was hard to figure out why Yugi would be watching it like a hawk, as if daring it to move.

“Yeah,” he sighed, palming at his eyes. “Let’s jus’ go home.”

Atem unlocked the car and they piled in. He turned the heater on as quickly as he could press the button.

“Get ready for the three-in-the-morning New Year’s traffic,” he said, and pulled out into the street.

He’d been to Yugi’s house enough times that he didn’t need directions, taking the sideroads to avoid the bulk of the traffic, and, hopefully, all the people who didn’t have the common sense to pick a designated driver.

It was a quiet ride. Yugi had shucked off the coat and used it like a blanket over his lap. He had taken off his puzzle ring, too, but his drink-heavy fingers were having a hard time fitting the bands together. Atem let him have the silence. He didn’t really have anything to say.

He was surprised when Yugi broke it. “M’sorry.”

“Sorry?” he repeated. “For what?”

“I dunno.” He rolled his shoulders and put his head back on the seat. “For makin’ you do stuff I guess.”

Atem took his eyes off the road for a moment to look at his passenger. “I _offered_ to take you home. You didn’t make me do this, I wanted to.” He looked back to the street, even though he didn’t want to.

Yugi fumbled with his puzzle ring some more, blinking rapidly. “But I didn’t tell you why…”

“I don’t have to know why you’re upset to help you. I—” he cut himself off. He wasn’t ready to say that yet. “I really care about you. I care about you and you needed help. That’s all I have to know.”

Miraculously, the puzzle ring snapped together. “Thanks.”

“Of course.”

It was silent again. The bright lights of Domino’s more populated area blinked all around them, a sign they were closing in on Yugi’s place. He lived in the heart of the city, the tech-center, the place where everything was happening all the time. Every time he came down here, Atem wondered why in the world Yugi chose to drive all the way across town to come to the Pharaoh’s Throne that one night in September. It felt like it was yesterday and years ago at the same time.

“He drives me crazy,” Yugi mumbled, breaking the silence for the second time that night. He leaned his head on the window, looking out the windshield but not seeing it.

“Who does?” Atem asked.

Yugi either didn’t hear him or didn’t feel like answering, continuing to ramble. “He invited me to his stupid office party and I didn’t go so he called me to ask why and I just—he didn’t even _apologize_. He keeps trying to invite me to stuff and it’s—he can’t just _make me_ come to his stuff. I don’t care anymore. It’s been _months_ , y’know?”

He did not know. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

Yugi made a face like he smelled something rotten. “Seto.”

Why did that sound so familiar? Atem ran through a list of everyone Yugi had ever mentioned and came up blank. Still, he could have _sworn_ he heard that name somewhere before.

“I’m still lost,” he admitted.

“You know about Seto, I told you about him like… the first night, right?”

Atem frowned at the dashboard. The first night they met? Yugi had only talk about his ex, then, and he had never mentioned a _name_.

He pulled the car to a stop at a red light, staring up into the lights of the nearby buildings, racking his brain to come up with _somewhere_ he’d heard that name before. _Seto…_

His eyes came into focus on one of the gigantic logos, washing bright blue and white neon onto the streets and the cars below. An intertwined K and C, for KaibaCorp, the biggest tech company in Domino.

Wait.

“Seto,” he said, the realization dawning on him as he spoke. “As in Seto _Kaiba_?”

Yugi shoved his shoulder playfully. “See? You know who it is.”

Atem didn’t have the heart or the brain to tell him that he hadn’t ever mentioned that before, mostly because he was still reeling from the discovery. Yugi’s ex, the one that he’d privately hated for months, was _Seto Kaiba_. The guy who’d taken control of KaibaCorp company at fifteen, the youngest CEO in the world, after his father’s death, and radically changed the company from an arms dealer to the second-largest distributor of Duel Monsters related merchandise after Industrial Illusions. _That_ _guy_ was the guy that Yugi had been talking about the whole time.

It almost didn’t seem real – Atem had only ever heard great things about KaibaCorp, and its CEO in particular. Sure, there were rumors that he was a harsh boss and cold to his employees, but what businessperson wasn’t?

But Yugi _had_ mentioned competing with his ex when he was a duelist. And Kaiba had done that when he was in high school too. And they would have been in school around the same time…

The night at the museum came back to him. The night Yugi had shut down after hearing the CEO of KaibaCorp was coming to tour the exhibit.

“How did I miss that?” he wondered out loud.

“S’okay,” Yugi reassured him. “You’re prob’ly tired.” He yawned hugely. “Me too.”

“Yeah,” he said, half to himself. “Probably.”

The rest of the ride home was quiet again, Yugi apparently done with ranting, Atem still wondering at how much of an idiot he had to be to miss the fact that _Seto fucking Kaiba_ was the ex-boyfriend he promised himself he’d drop kick onto the concrete. It didn’t change his hypothetical plans, but now he’d at least he know who he was looking for.

He imagined himself waiting outside the KaibaCorp headquarters with a baseball bat and snorted as quietly as possible. Getting arrested would be worth it, as far as he was concerned.

Finally, Yugi’s apartment complex came into view. Atem pulled into the parking lot and cut the engine off. He looked to the passenger seat and smiled at what he saw, the feelings he discovered that night only solidifying.  

Yugi was sleeping with his face pressed against the window, coat slung over one of his shoulders like a blanket. His hands curled around one of the sleeves, tiny puffs of air fogging up the glass.

Atem shook one of his shoulders. “Hey,” he murmured. “We’re home.”

He almost got smacked in the face by one of Yugi’s arms as he stretched, blinking awake. “Hmm?”

“Sorry,” he said. “I can’t carry you up the stairs.”

“Use th’elevator,” was Yugi’s mumbled response. He tried to curl up and go back to sleep, but Atem was not having that.

“Oh, no,” he insisted, unbuckling them both. “You can go to sleep later.”

 He got out of the car, already missing the heater. He walked around to open the passenger’s side door, but said passenger made no move to get out of the car, putting on the coat backwards and burying himself in it.

“Alright,” Atem sighed, “come on. Let’s go.”

Yugi stuck out his arms in the universal symbol for _up._

He rolled his eyes and bent down. “If I drop you,” he grunted, lifting him bridal style, “remember this was your idea.”

He kicked the door shut and locked the car, doing his best to keep the keys from digging into Yugi’s side. He hefted the load in his arms, thankful that all that time spent at the gym was paying off for something. This was one of the many moments he wished he was the taller one of the two of them.

Yugi wrapped his arms around his neck and loosely linked his fingers together. He said something completely unintelligible and closed his eyes.

“You better not fall asleep,” Atem warned, making his way to the door of the complex. Even as he said it, he knew it was inevitable.

Thankfully, someone held the door open for him so he didn’t have to try and figure out how to do it himself, though unlocking the apartment door was going to be a different problem altogether.

He got a few looks walking into the lobby, including one from the receptionist, but they knew each other well enough for her to wave. Atem waved back as best he could.

“Fun night?” she asked quietly.

“A little too fun,” Atem responded, just as quiet, adjusting the sleeping Yugi.

She hid a tiny laugh behind her hand. “Need some help?”

“I think I got it.”

She nodded and Atem went on his way.

He ended up taking Yugi’s advice and using the elevator so he didn’t have to worry about tripping over his feet on the stairs. The ride up was just the two of them, and that was the moment he let his racing heart jump into his throat. He shut his tired eyes and sagged against the wall, so he wouldn’t look down at Yugi and word vomit everything he had wanted to say for months with the security that he was sleeping. Because he could wake up. And that’s not how Atem wanted it to happen – by mistake. He wanted it to be intentional, if he could ever work up the courage.

The elevator dinged and he pushed himself off the wall with the quietest grunt he could manage. He readied the keys in his hand as he walked down the hall, glad that Yugi kept everything in one place.

Getting the door open was an adventure in trying not to fall over or drop the sleeping bundle in his arms, but he did it, after a minute of struggling with his balance. He backed into the apartment and kicked the door shut as quiet as possible.

Something rubbed against his legs as he tried to get off his shoes. _“Mrow-ow_.”

“Hi Yami,” he whispered, looking over Yugi’s head at the cat trying very hard to knock him over. “I’m kind of busy right now.”

Yami didn’t seem to get the message, purring like a motor as he danced around Atem’s feet.

“I’ll pet you when I put down your dad, just hold on.”

He successfully kicked his shoes away and fumbled his way into the dark apartment to drop Yugi on the couch as gently as he could. The sleeping fingers around his neck came away easily, grabbing the next thing they happened to lock around, which happened to be a throw pillow. Atem wasn’t even going to bother trying to retrieve his coat; he wouldn’t be outside for very long, anyway.

He plopped on a nearby chair in the dark, and was immediately greeted with a ten-pound mass of black fur. “ _Mrow_.”

“Yes, the promised pets,” he said, getting right to work paying off his debt to Yami. The cat butted into his hand and curled up into a tiny purring ball. He absentmindedly stroked his back, keeping an eye on the sleeping Yugi.

In his mind, he justified it with the excuse that he was making sure he wouldn’t roll onto his back and choke himself to death. He’d had a lot to drink, and Atem wasn’t about to leave him by himself when he knew that.  But it was such a flimsy defense he didn’t even keep up the act to the only other awake creature in the house.

“ _What am I going to do, huh_?” he asked Yami, switching to Arabic so Yugi wouldn’t understand if he woke up. “ _I’m really in love with him_.”

Predictably, the cat didn’t say anything.

“ _It’s not like I’m subtle_ ,” he continued, shaking his head at himself. “ _I’ve never been a very good liar_. _But I don’t know if he knows. Or if he’d be okay with it if I said anything_.”

 Yami rolled onto his back.

“ _He’s important to me. We’re friends before anything else, but does that mean I should keep it to myself or tell him as soon as I can?_ ”

“ _Mrow_.”

“ _Yeah, you would say that_.”

Yugi made a mumbling noise in his sleep. Atem knew by now that it would be safe to leave, but…

“ _I just don’t want to mess this up_.” For some reason – maybe it was his nerves, maybe it was his lack of sleep catching up with him, or maybe it was just for release – he found himself wiping a tear off his cheek. “ _This sucks. You know that?_ ”

The cat blinked up at him with large golden eyes. “ _Mrow_?”

“ _It doesn’t completely suck, but it sucks enough for me to say it sucks_.”

He sat in that chair, in the dark, petting a cat, until he knew he had to get back to the bar to help close up. He said his goodbyes, even if the only person who heard him was a cat, and was out the door, calling himself a cab.

But, even after sitting in the lobby to wait, getting in the car, and driving off, Atem never noticed the silver sports car parked across the street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT’S OUR PROBLEM FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE  
> PHILOSPOHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY  
> H A K U N A  
> M A T A T A
> 
> side note: my partner found the perfect theme song for this fic: “harsh light” by nate ruess. it’s a wonderful song and not just because i’m biased! it’s on the playlist if you want to check out any of the other songs that have been dubbed "songs that make us think of Cut Off"


	8. Under Your Influence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i realized that i’ve been really inconsistent with my texting formatting, so i went back and fixed it all! sorry i didn’t notice sooner x~~~~x

Atem had to admit it: he needed serious help. And there was only one person he could think of who could assist him. He took out his phone and texted Anzu.

 

**Atem 3:42pm**

_i need your advice_

 

He set his phone down and stared at his living room wall from his place on the couch. He had absolutely no idea where to hang this picture.

Isis was kind enough to get him a framed picture of himself and all three of the Ishtar cousins from when they were children. It was incredible, all of them making silly faces and wearing ridiculous graphic t-shirts, and he wanted to do it justice by putting it on the wall somewhere. The “somewhere” was the part he was having trouble with.

After several minutes of debating with himself, his phone buzzed, and he picked it up excitedly.

 

**Anzu 3:46pm**

_Oh my GOD, just ask him out already!!!_

 

He promptly _dropped_ his phone.

Several things ran through his mind at once: _Why is that her first question? She’s definitely talking about Yugi, right? Why would she even say that?_

He took a breath, and picked up his phone. It was probably a case of texting the wrong person. He knew that Anzu had lots of friends outside of just the ones they shared. Maybe one of her co-workers at her ballet studio was looking for dating advice. Yeah. That had to be it.

He tentatively texted her back.

 

**Atem 3:49pm**

_uh...i actually need help with interior design_

 

**Atem 3:49pm**

_thanks for the Bonus Advice i guess??_

 

He set down his phone again. Interior design was now the furthest thing from his mind. It didn't take nearly as long for Anzu to respond this time.

 

**Anzu 3:50pm**

_Oh. So this *isn't* about your super huge and obvious crush on Yugi?_

 

Okay. That wasn't at all subtle.

 

**Atem 3:51pm**

_…….im going to pretend like i didnt read that_

 

**Atem 3:51pm**

_how much do you know about hanging picture frames?_

 

**Anzu 3:51pm**

_You're thinking about PICTURE FRAMES at a time like this????_

 

Atem rubbed his eyes. This was not going well.

 

**Atem 3:52pm**

_please at least pretend to focus_

 

**Anzu 3:53pm**

_Fine. If it's a single picture, hang it at eye-level in the center of the wall. If there are other pictures, make sure the biggest ones are in the center, and spread the smaller ones out so the wall doesn't look cluttered._

 

**Atem 3:53pm**

_thank you! see, i knew you could do it_

 

Anzu's advice sounded easy enough to follow. He only had the one picture, anyway, and he could totally hang something at eye-level. Though he might need a chair or something to make it eye-level for everyone _else_.

His phone buzzed. He sighed. 

 

**Anzu 3:54pm**

_Hooray! Now let's discuss your love life. You obviously need help arranging that too_.

 

**Atem 3:54pm**

_you realize that i dont have to tell you anything, and even if i do, it could be complete bullshit?_

 

**Anzu 3:55pm**

_You've failed to take into account that you are a terrible liar._

 

Well. That's Plan A: Ignore It and Plan B: Lie out the window in less than five minutes. Time for Plan C: Panic Because There Is No Plan C.

 

**Anzu 3:56pm**

_And I'm not hearing a no!_

 

**Atem 3:56pm**

_im going to take your picture frame advice. and nothing else._

 

Despite his claims, he didn't leave to go hang the picture. Talking about his feelings was the opposite of what he planned for, but there was also something exhilarating about it. He'd been keeping it a secret for so long, the fact that somebody had figured it out wasn't as devastating as it might have been a month ago. Instead of being mortified, he was willing to _gush_ , of all things. Sure, it was embarrassing, but he'd be lying if he said he hadn't been secretly wanting this moment to happen. To talk about how much Yugi meant to him, to tell someone _everything_. It couldn't be Yugi himself, so this was the next best thing.

_One of Yugi's best friends is the next best thing?_ he asked himself. _Someone who could easily turn around and tell him everything you say?_

As soon as he had the thought, he banished it from his mind. Anzu wouldn't do that. It wasn't like her. All his secrets, if he chose to share them, were safe with her. 

His phone buzzed. He swallowed anxiously.

 

**Anzu 3:58pm**

_If you really don't want to talk about it, I'll back off. But I'm just saying you don't have to keep walking on eggshells._

 

What was that supposed to mean?

 

**Atem 3:58pm**

_explain please_

 

**Anzu 3:58pm**

_You're trying to hide it (which just makes it more obvious, but we'll talk about that later) so that Yugi doesn't notice, right?_

 

Clearly, he wasn’t doing a good job of that, but he knew it already.

 

**Atem 3:59pm**

_what should i be doing instead?_

 

He hoped that sounded like a rhetorical question and not an opening for advice. He meant it as both, but that didn't matter.

 

**Anzu 3:59pm**

_You should be going for it!!! You know he's single, you're already friends, so come on! What are you waiting for?_

 

Atem frowned at the screen. There were plenty of good reasons why he didn't “go for it.” Being absolutely terrified was the first one, but not the most important one.

 

**Atem 4:00pm**

_if by “single” you mean “just had a breakup” that's a reason why i haven't done anything yet_

 

**Anzu 4:00pm**

_That was months ago. Trust me, he's over it. Yugi's tougher than he looks._

 

_I know_ , he added to himself. _And he can hold an impressive amount of alcohol._

But being tough wasn't the point. Not to him.

Whatever Kaiba had said to Yugi on New Year’s Eve, he still didn’t want to talk about it, and it was now the beginning of February. Atem had made sure to come clean about everything he’d been told – though it wasn’t much, just the name of a previously unnamed person – and Yugi had cut off the conversation as quickly as possible, without talking about the phone call, the silver car, or why he’d been so afraid at the suggestion of a cab. He insisted he was over it, and Atem believed him. But he wasn’t going to pretend he didn’t see Yugi was still hurting, at least a little.

He decided to start from the beginning.  

 

**Atem 4:00pm**

_i know i havent known yugi for as long as you guys have, but there's something about being a bartender that makes people think you're a therapist_

 

**Atem 4:01pm**

_when i saw yugi walk in for the first time, he was absolutely destroyed. the first thing he did was tell me about how terrible his ex was, and that was when he was sober_

 

**Atem 4:01pm**

_when he got drunk, he talked about how his entire world had fallen apart because of this guy_

 

**Atem 4:01pm**

_i can't ignore how badly he was hurt, and how he might still be recovering from it. i won't take advantage of that._

 

It was painful remembering how upset Yugi had been on the night they met. But it's what kept him from vomiting up his heart most Tuesday nights, that and New Year’s Eve. The thought of how hurt he was, and how much worse he'd be if Atem made a move when he was vulnerable. Being a bartender meant he saw the ugliest sides of everyone he met, and even though Yugi's ugliest side was still pretty damn good looking, it meant he knew things that not even his closest friends might know. A different kind secret he had to keep. 

He chewed on his lip as he waited for a response. It felt like a betrayal to reveal how Yugi acted that night. He'd never promised not to talk about it again, so it wasn't technically even a secret. And Yugi's letter (still on his fridge, embarrassingly enough) never even mentioned it, so he obviously wasn't worried about Atem telling – but who would he have told at the time? Nobody. Would the letter have said something different now that they were friends? Did he just assume Atem wouldn't say anything? 

_You're being paranoid again,_ he chastised himself. _Just tell Anzu not to mention it._

He quickly tapped up another message. 

 

**Atem 4:02pm**

_and if you could keep conversation between us, i would appreciate it_

 

**Anzu 4:03pm**

_Of course! What kind of friend would I be if I shouted this to the rooftops?_

 

She wasn't going to talk about it. Atem relaxed. One less thing to worry about. 

 

**Anzu 4:03pm**

_Anyway...I know firsthand how bad that breakup was. It *did* destroy him, at least for a little while._

 

**Anzu 4:03pm**

_Yugi wouldn't come out of his place for days. But I don't think you have to worry about taking advantage of him_.

 

**Atem 4:04pm**

_what do you mean?_

 

**Anzu 4:04pm**  

_I mean that he's better now. A lot better. He’s not the kind of person to jump on any kind of affection coming his way, either._

 

**Anzu 4:04pm**

_And just between us, I'm pretty sure he's been waiting for you to make a move for a while._

 

Atem's heart jumped into his throat. Was she being serious? Had he been so trapped in his own head  that he completely missed Yugi dropping him every hint in the book? Was he more of a complete idiot than he thought?

He almost texted back, “ _really?!?!?!”_ as if he wasn't desperate enough, but got a hold of himself long enough to erase it.

 

**Atem 4:05pm**

_i trust you when you say he's over it, but i still don't think it's the right time_

 

**Anzu 4:05pm**

_That's a worn-out excuse._

 

**Atem 4:05pm**  

_i know, but this is a bigger decision for him than it is for me, and..._

 

What _did_ he want to say here? He didn't want to ruin their friendship? That much was obvious. He didn't want to embarrass himself? He did that all the time, more often than he could count. He didn't want to embarrass them _both?_ Yugi wasn’t really the type to get embarrassed about something like this, even if Atem was.

Nothing sounded right. It's not why he was worried, not entirely. All of those things came up, but they all orbited something bigger. 

Why _was_ he so worried about Yugi being ready to move on? Obviously, he didn't want to take advantage of Yugi at his low point, but that would have been asking him out the night they met, not _now._ He was confident that Yugi could turn him down at any point, which stung, but it was true. So what was he so worried about? 

He scrolled back through the texts and frowned at the one that raised a few flags on the second read.

_He's been waiting for you to make a move_.

That didn't sound right. Not for Yugi. If he wanted something, he'd take it, not wait for someone to walk up and hand it to him. The only reason he would want someone else to do it for him is...if he didn't want it badly enough to do it himself. 

Something awful grabbed his chest and shook him like a rag doll.

Atem didn't want to be a rebound.

That's what it really boiled down to. He didn't want to just be a few dates before going back to normal, or what would be left of normal. He was in love. He wanted something _else_ , something deeper than that. He didn't want to be a one-and-done. 

He wasn't just afraid of hurting Yugi. He was afraid of hurting himself.

That realization dropped heavily into his gut and rolled around like a rock at the bottom of a pond. How was he going to say this?

Anzu wasn't even typing, but he could tell she was waiting patiently for a reply. He smiled the tiny picture of her at the top of the screen as he tapped out a vague approximation of his thoughts. 

 

**Atem 4:09pm**

_if he just wants comfort, that's perfectly reasonable for his situation. i get needing to get back in the game. but that's not what i want to be. if “this” happens, i want it to be because we both want the same thing_

 

**Atem 4:09pm**  

_i *love* yugi_

 

**Atem 4:09pm**

_but im not going to break my own heart for him_  

 

There. All cards on the table. 

A sense of giddy relief swept over Atem as he waited for a response. He figured out his own crazy mess of feelings in a single text conversation. And he got to say that he _loved Yugi_. _Out loud_. That was the real kicker. Being able to tell someone that wasn't himself. He grinned like an idiot and buried his face in his hands. 

“I am the oldest teenager on planet Earth,” he whispered. A notification brought him back to reality. 

 

**Anzu 4:10pm**

_Atem, you're a sweet guy. And it's good that you know what you want_

 

**Anzu 4:10pm**

_But I'm *telling you* that you both want the same thing right now_

 

**Anzu 4:10pm**

_Just. Ask. Him. Out._

 

Atem ran a hand down his face and sighed. He literally just went over this. 

 

**Atem 4:10pm**

_you said he's been waiting right? why doesn't he just do it himself?_

 

**Anzu 4:10pm**

_Never tell him I told you this, but he's a complete wreck when it comes to dating._

 

What? That made even less sense. Anzu wouldn’t lie to him, but this just sounded _wrong_.

 

**Atem 4:11pm**

_i...don't follow_

 

**Anzu 4:11pm**

_I’ve known Yugi almost my whole life, and I have never once seen him ask *anybody* out first. He’s obsessed with “being sure” that he’s reading all the right signals, and he can never make up his mind about if somebody wants him or not_

 

**Anzu 4:11pm**

_He’s remarkable at pretending to be confident when he isn't, but he will never ever make the first move because he keeps second guessing himself. Even if it’s completely obvious, like you_

 

**Atem 4:12pm**

_gee thanks_

 

**Anzu 4:12pm**

_You're the most obvious guy in a five-mile radius, and he still won't. Because he's a mess. You have to be the one to ask him out._

 

**Atem 4:12pm**

_i cant tell if this is encouraging or belittling_

 

**Anzu 4:13pm**

_It's facts. You are a terrible bluffer, Yugi is terrible at calling bluffs, unless he’s playing a game. This does not count as a game._

 

**Anzu 4:13pm**

_I bet he’s pacing around his room right now, agonizing about this, as we speak. It's up to you, or this will go on forever_

 

Is that really what it would come down to? Atem would have to be the one to call his own bluff, a bluff that had already been spotted? Just walk up to him and blurt it all out? It was all so easy in theory, but the thought of actually doing it made him want to shrivel up. 

 

**Anzu 4:13pm**

_I'm not saying you have to do it tonight, tomorrow, next week, or ever. But the best way to get what you want it to just...ask. Ask Yugi if he wants what you want_

 

**Anzu 4:13pm**

_It's not easy, but it's better than spending all this time wondering about it_

 

He sighed, long and heavy. He didn't want to admit it, but she was right. He’d been dancing around this for too long. Way too long. The only thing worse than finding out Yugi didn’t feel the same would be knowing he missed his chance.

But _would_ it be worse? Just on the off chance that Yugi said no. Would that _seriously_ be better than pining from a distance, like he’d been doing for this long already? At least if Yugi found someone else, Atem would know he was happy. If this situation went bad, _neither_ of them would be happy.

He didn’t know. He honestly didn’t know.

 

**Atem 4:14pm**

_i’ll think about it_

 

That’s where the conversation more or less stopped. And he did think about it. He thought about it for way longer than his paranoia normally let him. He thought about it working around the house, making dinner, eating dinner, getting ready for bed, and, finally, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. He’d come to several conclusions, and there were a few different ways he imagined a confession would go:

If Yugi said no but was cool with it, then things might be awkward for a little while before going back to normal. Mostly normal, anyway. As “normal” as you can be around someone you’re in love with and they know and don’t reciprocate. A solid five out of ten. Not at all a good one, but it was better than the second option.

If Yugi said no and _wasn’t_ cool with it, Atem fully expected the world to collapse. If that didn’t happen, their friendship would probably be strained before fizzling out altogether. He had no idea how that would effect his relationship with the rest of his friends, or if Yugi would even want to be around him at all. Atem would probably let them all return to their insulated group and leave him in another weird friendless limbo. Zero out of ten. The worst possible outcome.

If Yugi said _yes_ , then the world would be lovely and perfect and rainbows would sprout from the flowers or something. Best case scenario, eleven out of ten.

Atem rolled his eyes at the ceiling, berating himself for not taking the last option as seriously as he’d taken the first two, but he couldn’t help it. It was _surreal_ to think about everything just working out fine, no hiccups, no embarrassment, no problem. Just a hop, skip, and a jump away from eternal happiness. Even though this was the scenario he _wanted_ , he couldn’t bring himself to come up with some ideal fantasy about how it might go. He got stuck around the part where everything started going his way.

He rolled over onto one side and squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to _make_ himself come up with something happy, goddammit. He’d been too stressed about this to not pretend that he lived in a world where he didn’t have to be stressed about it anymore. He was allowed to have this _one thing_ , even if it wasn’t real.

They would be… where would they be? The bar. Sure, why not? They met once a week anyway, it wouldn’t be a huge stretch. It would be a Tuesday, so quiet in the job aspect. Not much to do. Maybe it would be just the two of them. Yeah. This was the ideal scenario, after all. Just the two of them, slow night, nothing else distracting.

Yugi would have his usual, of course. Atem might be drinking something, might not. In real life, he’d probably have something to keep his nerves down, but for the sake of this fantasy, he was confident as all hell. No liquid courage needed. Not _too_ confident, he wasn’t an asshole. Just the right amount of confident. Okay, moving on.

They’d be having a conversation, or telling a story about something stupid. Atem might say something mildly amusing and Yugi would laugh a bit harder than the joke probably deserved, but he’d take it. Anything for a smile.

Then maybe they’d get quiet, trail off. The conversation ended, the story was over, something. Yugi would still have the remnants of a smile on his face, the kind that meant he was thinking about something. His eyes would be curled at the edges, relaxed, comfortable, happy. Seeing him happy… it made Atem happy too.

Maybe he wouldn’t be able to hold it back anymore. Maybe he’d just have to say it, before it escaped on its own. And he’d say, _Yugi, I_ —

An unreasonably loud crack of thunder jerked him out of his own head, eyes flying open wide. The rain slapped against the roof heavily, coming down in sheets. More thunder rumbled away in the distance, quieter than the last.

Atem curled deeper into his blankets, staring into the dark. The rain had killed his mood a little, but there was one thing he knew for sure: he wanted whatever he’d been about to give himself. Badly. Whatever had shaken him around earlier that day had its fingers wrapped around his chest again, pulsing with the beat of his heart.

For some reason, he felt like he was running out of time. As if there was a countdown on his window to confess, before _something_ unknowable happened and he could never open it up again. It gave him vertigo.

Even if it wasn’t true, it held a special kind of meaning for him. And as he closed his eyes – to sleep this time – there was a very simple reason why:

Tomorrow was Tuesday.

 

 

"And then I just burst out crying."

Yugi's hand flew up to his mouth, but his eyes were sparkling with mirth. "Right there?"

"Oh yeah," Atem continued, gesturing wide with the beer he'd been nursing. "Right there, in front of everybody."

"What did he do?"

"He freaked, obviously, and tried to calm me down." He shook his head knowingly. "It didn't work at all."

Yugi took a sip of his usual drink with a sad smile.  "Aw. You poor thing."

"When my parents came over, to see what happened, I just _begged_ them not to let Rishid and Isis go home because I didn't want them to live underground anymore."

He wasn't even trying to hide his laughter anymore. "That is so adorable and sad at the same time."

Atem shook his head, also laughing at the ridiculous memory. "It sure wasn't adorable to _most_ of the adults, when Rishid tore ass across the yard the minute I blabbed."

"He didn't get away, did he?"

"They found him pretty quick, and made him apologize and assure me that his family _didn't_ belong to a secret underground cult."

Yugi got himself under control enough to look exasperated. "I still can't _believe_ you fell for that."

Atem rose to his own defense. "I was seven! You can't call bullshit on anything when you're _seven_ , especially not your big sixteen-year-old cousin who knows _everything_."

He shook his head with another burst of giggles. "Wow. What a family reunion."

"Let's just say I was very wary of what Rishid told me for the rest of that visit." 

"Was Isis in on it?"

He took a swig from his bottle and shook his head. "Nah. She had 'more important things to do' when she was thirteen than torment her little cousin. Her words, not mine."

Yugi nodded, taking another drink. "Sounds like Isis alright."

"She really hasn't changed that much, has she?"

"Nope. I'm surprised Rishid was the one who got you though."

"Marik wasn't born yet, so he had to make up for the lack of chaos in the family for a while."

Yugi swirled his glass around, the ice clinking against the sides. "It's so weird to think of him as being _silly_."

"He puts on the quiet act for everyone else's sake. I think he's afraid of being _too_ imposing, so he tries to disappear instead."

"Ooh, breaking out the psychoanalysis."

Atem shrugged, holding the pose with his arms outstretched. "What can I say? I'm multi-talented."

Yugi smiled over the rim of his glass, coy. "The doctor is in, hm?"

His stomach did a tiny backflip, and he mimed turning over a sign. "And he's out. Now back to your regularly scheduled bartending."

Yugi snorted into his drink and Atem took another swig from his own, eyes sweeping the room. There wasn't much of said "regularly scheduled bartending" to be done, now that he was taking it all in. It was another quiet Tuesday, people trickling in about as fast as they left, which left the whole place decidedly stagnant, save for a few people in the back that he'd only served ten minutes ago. Not that he was complaining. Less work to do meant more time spent talking to—

Yugi was staring at him.

Atem only noticed it when he refocused, and he only noticed because Yugi hadn't _stopped._ He didn't look like he was about to say anything, just looking on with a half-smile and a curious look in his eyes. It was soft. Warm. It was almost the look he got when he was drunk, but a dozen times clearer. More intentional. In general just… _more._

 Atem's throat went dry, and he tried to use his beer to fix it. Didn't work. He set it down behind the counter, tapping the glass with his fingernails.

"What's that look for?" he asked, desperate to break the silence. 

"What look?" Yugi said. His face hadn't changed. 

" _That_ one," he said, pointing.

The expression changed just a little, to be fondly confused. "That's just my face." 

"It's—You're looking at me weird."

"No, I'm not. I'm just looking."

Atem wasn't _crazy,_ right? Not any crazier than previously established? "You're messing with me."

"I promise—" Yugi put his chin in one hand and leveling with Atem "—there is nothing different—" he leaned forward over his glass "—about how I'm looking at you."

He'd frozen in place where he was standing, Yugi inches away and looking as if this were the most normal thing in the world. Uncomfortably close wasn't the right way to describe this. Because Atem wasn't uncomfortable. If anything, he was _too_ comfortable.

Three things happened in the same number of seconds.

One: Before he could even register what he was doing, his eyes had flicked down to Yugi's lips.

Two: He forced his eyes back up.

Three: His breath caught, and he backed up as if he'd been electrocuted.

He hit the back counter, the line of bottles rattling slightly. He still had his beer clutched in his hands and he decided he _definitely_ needed to drink more of it.

Over the neck of the bottle, he saw Yugi. He'd also backed up from _whatever_ had just happened, and the weird look he had was gone. Now it was unsure, nervous, almost _guilty_. But he also looked resolute, like he had just proven himself right.

Atem wasn't an idiot. Not all the time, anyway. He had to do this now, or suffer whatever consequences he would get from _not_ doing it and letting Yugi piece it together on his own. He set his beer down behind him and looked around. It wasn't perfect,  but it was probably the best opportunity he would ever have. He stepped back up, absolutely fucking terrified, but smiling through it.

"Hey, Yugi," he said, resting his folded hands behind the bar, "I need to talk to you about something."

Yugi brightened with characteristic friendliness. "Sure, what's up?"

He swallowed. He screwed up his face and relaxed it again. "Sorry, it's a little. Difficult."

He got a bright smile and a tiny shake of the head for his trouble. "Don't worry," Yugi assured him. "No judgement here." 

_I hope not_ , he thought. 

"Well," he finally began, "I've—"

The door could not have opened louder if it had been ripped off its hinges on the way. 

Atem jumped out of his skin – Yugi whispered " _What_ the f—?" – and whipped toward the entrance wondering who in _the world_ had tried to bring down his building with a single door slam. 

His heart stopped, started, and dropped to the floor. To his side, Yugi turned rigid as a statue. 

"Well, well, well," Seto Kaiba declared, standing in the threshold of the Pharaoh's Throne. "Fancy meeting you here."

At first, it wasn’t clear who he was talking to, because he scanned over every single body in the room before settling on his ex expectantly.

“Yep,” Yugi said, dry and lifeless. He faced the bar again and propped up his head with one hand, deliberately blocking his vision of the front of the building. He stared into his glass, looking somewhere between disinterested and exhausted.

Atem could only nod politely in Kaiba’s direction, even as he clenched his jaw so tight he thought his teeth might crack. He let his eyes pass over Yugi as he picked up a rag to clean his space and was an inch away from growling like a caged animal. There was absolutely _nothing_ he could do.

If he tried to kick Kaiba out before he’d even sat down he’d get lawsuits up the ass if the rumors were true, and he wasn’t willing to take the chance that they weren’t. Even more than that, private life was private. None of his or Yugi’s personal reservations meant anything in this situation, because all Kaiba had done to any outside viewer was make them uncomfortable. Definitely not grounds to kick him out, despite the history backing up those feelings. They just had to weather the storm.

Even as he came to terms with the situation, Atem knew it was going to be a lot harder than it sounded.

Kaiba pulled out a stool three seats down and sat, flashy white coat billowing around him as if he was standing on a vent.

Atem forced himself to perk up like any good food service employee would. “What can I get for you tonight?”

Before even saying anything, Kaiba slapped down a bill that would have been able to pay for the whole room. “Vodka and tonic,” he said, as if he expected it to magically appear in front of him. “Top shelf. If you have it.”

That was the most thinly veiled insult he’d ever received about the quality of his bar – it was hardly _veiled_ at all – but he let it roll off his back. He knew he’d be dealing with a _lot_ worse. “Is Grey Goose alright?”

“It’ll do.”

Atem collected the payment without another word and got to work, the only sound outside of ice, glass, and bottles was the sound of radio, filtered through tinny speakers. He normally tuned it out, but tonight it was a godsend.

He looked over to Yugi as he poured. He hadn’t moved except to switch his arms, now blocking his view of where Kaiba sat. He was still staring into his glass, swirling the ice around like a kid refusing to eat. Kaiba either didn’t notice or didn’t care, and the thought of either one of those being true made his blood boil.

Atem took a calming breath he hoped was subtle. Now was not the time. He could be mad when this was over. He handed Kaiba his drink with an amicable smile.

“What brings you to the other side of town?” he asked, trying to lift the mood even a _millimeter_ off the ground where it had dropped.  

“And you care why?” Kaiba retorted, taking the glass, but not drinking from it.

Atem had never immediately disliked someone he served before, but there was a first time for everything. Still, he kept his polite composure. “Just curious. I don’t get very many local CEOs in here.”

Without missing a beat, he responded, “That much is obvious.” Before Atem could be offended, he added, “I’m here on personal business.”

He was only that much closer to asking Kaiba who the _fuck_ he thought he was, but held back. The answer would probably just make him angrier. “Enjoy,” he said instead, and elected to back off.

He turned around, if only to stop looking at the face of all his issues for the evening, and retrieved the mostly finished beer from where he’d left it on the back counter. Drinking anything stronger would definitely get him into trouble, what with his tendency to never know when to keep his mouth shut, but that was no reason to let _this_ go to waste. He tipped back what was left in the bottle and tossed it into a nearby trashcan.

“Please tell me you’re _allowed_ to drink on the job,” Kaiba said.

Atem turned around, slowly, not entirely sure he’d heard that correctly. “Considering I _own_ this bar, I think I’m ‘allowed’ to drink occasionally, yes.”

“You own this place?”

“Yes.”

Kaiba looked him up and down, a single eyebrow arched. “You don’t look the type.”

“What d—”

“Just leave him _alone_.”

Both Atem and Kaiba shut their mouths and looked at Yugi. He wasn’t completely out of his funk, but there was a bit more life in his eyes as he glared in Kaiba’s direction. Atem swallowed a prideful smile.  

Kaiba looked like he was about to protest, but thought better of it. “Fine,” he concluded, finally lifting his drink to his lips.

Yugi returned to his previous position. He hunched around his drink like he was trying to become as small as possible, all fire he’d just used to tell Kaiba off evaporated into steam. Atem’s moment of smugness burned off too. He stepped back up to the counter, trying to look as relaxed as possible. To show he wasn’t bothered by any of this. That it wasn’t Yugi’s fault. Any number of things that could possibly be running through his mind, to disprove them.

“This probably goes without saying,” he said, nudging Yugi’s elbow, “but I’ll tell you what I wanted to say some other time.”

He took a meager sip of his glass. “Sure.”

Clearly, Yugi’s spirits had not been lifted. Atem’s heart clenched, but he tried to keep his upbeat schtick going. “Hey, did I ever tell you about that time Marik tried to—”

“Atem,” he interrupted, gripping his glass tight. “I appreciate it. But I really don’t feel like talking much right now.”

Well. Damn.

_I probably wouldn’t want to talk much either_ , he reasoned. _I’ll give him some space._

Atem nodded with a sympathetic smile. “No problem. I’ll be here all night if you change your mind.”

Yugi’s expression didn’t change much, but the frown on his face lifted slightly. That was all he needed to know he’d done something right.

Atem took a step to the side and glanced down the length of the bar counter to check for more customers. What he found instead was Kaiba was sneering at him.

“Is there a problem?” he asked.

Kaiba shrugged by barely lifting his shoulders. “I just didn’t expect Yugi to find his _new boyfriend_ in a place like this.”

Atem almost denied it, but froze when he saw Yugi curling into himself like he was trying to disappear. He had to restrain himself from vaulting over the counter to drag Kaiba’s smug ass out of his bar and onto the street.

His mind rushed a thousand miles a second as he tried to think of something to say. Kaiba wanted him to deny being the new boyfriend, that much was obvious. It was a set up. Something to make Yugi feel insecure about not having found someone else yet. Atem wasn’t about to fall for something like that, and he _definitely_ wasn’t about to drag Yugi down with him. So he did the only thing that came to mind.

He put an arm out across the bar to block Kaiba’s view of Yugi. “And what if he _has_ found his new boyfriend in a ‘place like this?’”

It worked way better than he expected it to.

Whatever Kaiba had been expecting him to say, that clearly wasn’t it. His face turned from smug to shocked in a fraction of a second. Atem couldn’t help but wear a smirk of his own, and the shock turned into a glower.

Atem felt a hand on his shoulder and his stomach dropped. He hadn’t exactly had time to ask for Yugi’s permission. _We've_ _done this before_ , he thought. _Kind of. I hope I didn’t royally fuck up._

“Come on,” Yugi said, in a soft voice that he’d never used before, “you don’t have to justify us to him.”

That… that was a _yes_ , right?

Atem looked over his shoulder and was glad he was using the counter for support, because his legs would have gone out otherwise. Yugi had the same look in his eye as earlier, the _more_ , the “completely normal,” look. It was mellowed from the current situation, but it was still sweet and warm and private, as if there wasn’t anyone else in the room. He slipped his hand off Atem’s shoulder and curled his fingers around the propped hand.

Thankfully he kept talking, because Atem had lost the ability to speak. “It’s not any of his business who I’m with now.”

“He asked a question,” Atem said, finally remembering language, “so I answered it.” He looked back at Kaiba, before he died of a heart attack. “Unless there’s a problem with that?”

He adjusted his arm so he and Yugi could hold hands in a more reasonable position, and could have sworn Kaiba’s eye twitched. He had to bite his cheek to keep from laughing. It was going to be fun torturing this guy.

_For Yugi’s sake_ , he reminded himself. _Your friend, Yugi. That you are helping by_ pretending _to be his boyfriend._

Yep. That was all.

Kaiba looked between the two of them, eyebrows lowered so far they were casting shadows over his cheekbones. “There’s no problem,” he replied, through gritted teeth. There was clearly a problem.

“Good,” Atem said, both in response to what he said, and to the fact that he _definitely_ had a problem with it. He turned away pointedly, sliding his arm across the counter, back to Yugi.

Instantly, it felt like he’d been knocked on his ass. Yugi was pulling off the smitten boyfriend look _very_ well, cranking up the amount of lovesickness in his face to eleven. Atem could have sworn he saw stars in his eyes, but it might have been the lamps. He was finding it a little hard to get air into his lungs.

“As long as there’s no _problem_ …” Yugi said, trailing off. He never finished the rest of his sentence.

Instead, he reached up and pulled Atem’s face to meet him, brushing his lips against his cheek and hiding his face from Kaiba at the same time. Atem prayed his flush wasn’t visible, or at the very least, it looked like he was used to this.

“Thank you,” Yugi whispered. 

Atem answered by kissing his cheek to complete the illusion. There was no going back.

As soon as they pulled apart, Yugi looked as energetic as he would have been if Kaiba had never walked in. In fact, it looked like he was ignoring his ex completely.

“Did I ever tell you,” he said, “about the duel I won against that bug kid?”

Atem shook his head. “What does ‘bug kid’ even mean?”

With little prompting, Yugi was telling his story with enthusiasm, complete with sound effects and wild hand gestures. Although, because he refused to let go of Atem’s hand, and all of the gestures dragged him along for the ride. It distracted from the story a bit, but no way was Atem going to tell Yugi to _stop_. He was happy, and that’s all that mattered. They were happy _together_ —

_Brakes_ , he thought, sensing his self-control slipping. _Pump the brakes_.

As much as he wanted to forget about it, he had to remind himself that this was temporary. He was not Yugi’s actual boyfriend. He was doing him a favor by getting Kaiba to leave him alone. This was not permission to do _anything_ , and he couldn’t just blurt out everything that a normal boyfriend would say. Even if he wanted to. Even if he _really_ wanted to tell Yugi that he was adorable and beautiful and inspiring and _perfect_ and… and what was he thinking about again?

About halfway through the story, Atem looked away for a couple seconds, glancing around the bar for anyone who needed a bill or a table that needed cleaning—

“Hey,” Yugi said, gently pulling his chin back to face him. “Listening? I’m getting to the best part.” He tapped Atem’s nose sweetly and brushed an invisible lock of hair behind his ear.

Atem instantly forgot anything he was going to say, choosing instead to giggle like an idiot.

“What?” he laughed back. “Did I say something?”

He shook his head, trying to find his voice. “You keep forgetting I have to do my job.” He squeezed Yugi’s hand and reluctantly dragged himself off the bar counter.

Yugi rolled his eyes with mock annoyance. “Ugh. I _suppose_ I can let you go for now.”

Atem stepped around the counter, stopping to give Yugi a peck on the top of his head before heading to the back of the bar to collect a couple of dirty glasses and a tip. He swiped the table clean with his rag, and turned around to see Kaiba brooding at him, and Yugi not trying very hard to hide his irritation. Approaching the bar again, he expected only the worst.

Yugi positively beamed at Atem’s return, and laughed like music when he hip checked Yugi’s stool on his way around the counter to deposit his load.

“When you’re finished with that,” Kaiba called to him, raising his empty glass, “I’d like another drink.”

Yugi pressed his lips into a line, and Atem squashed his frustration with another customer service smile as he put away the dirty glasses. “What can I get for you?”

“Well, since I’ve _never_ been here before,” Kaiba sneered, clearly meaning it as an insult, “why don’t you tell me what’s good?”

Atem spread his hands on the counter invitingly. Kaiba stared as if he’d never washed his hands in his life. “In my personal opinion,” he said, ignoring the look, “everything here is good, but for _you_ …?” He snapped his fingers and lit up like he just had the most brilliant idea in the world. “A Millionaire.”

Kaiba stared blankly. “Is that supposed to be a joke?”

“You _did_ ask for his opinion,” Yugi pointed out.

“Come on, I promise you’ll like it,” Atem insisted, already pulling out the ingredients.

Kaiba looked between them both with a look like he was going to either strangle them or himself. “Fine,” he decided.

As Atem turned around for the cocktail shaker, he had an idea. Maybe not a _great_ idea, and certainly not an idea he busted out for just anyone. But this _was_ a special occasion. Plus, he wanted another excuse to annoy the guest of the hour.

“Alright,” he said, turning around with the shaker in one hand and a smile bordering on maniacal. “In honor of your first visit, allow me to make this Millionaire _very_ special for you.”

Atem tossed the shaker up in the air, and let it roll down his arm, before bumping it with his shoulder and letting it drop behind him. He quickly snatched it out with his opposite hand and flipped it casually before setting it behind the counter in front of an unimpressed Kaiba. He scooped ice into the shaker, and saw Yugi scoot a seat closer to watch, sliding his drink along with him. Atem shot him a sly wink. This was going to be fun.

“First thing’s first,” Atem said, refocusing on Kaiba, picking out three bottles of liquor and setting them on the counter, “what kind of gin do you like?”

Kaiba barely glanced at the labels before picking one. Atem nodded and smiled, which only seemed to annoy him more.

“Good choice,” he said, slipping the other two bottles away and popping open the third

He balanced it on the back of his fingers and tossed it into the air, before catching it by the neck at the last minute, pouring it into the shaker and cutting off the stream with a flourish. Yugi clapped, but Kaiba gave him a look that clearly said _I’ve seen better_.

_Fine_ , Atem thought, taking it as a challenge. _There’s more where that came from._

He picked up the next bottle. “Apricot brandy isn't usually my thing, but—” he flipped it in the air, tapping it once to send it spiraling in the opposite direction before catching it, “—a splash here and there can really bring a drink together.” He popped open the bottle and added it to the shaker, flipping the bottle when he put it away for good measure.

He read his “crowd” of two. Yugi was leaning forward like he was watching the most interesting thing in the world, eyes wide and sparkling. Kaiba looked like he was trying to make him burst into flames with a single glance. He countered with a smug look.

“Ah, Jamaican rum,” he said, picking up the next bottle. “Some of the finest stuff you'll ever have, if you ask me.”

With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the bottle behind him, letting it flip to the other side before catching it with his opposite hand, and repeating the trick the other way.

“Isn't he great?” Yugi said, nudging Kaiba like an excited kid.

“Oh, you're too kind,” Atem said, droll. He poured the rum into the shaker.

“Can we just get this over with?” Kaiba demanded.

“And last, but not least,” Atem announced, “a dash of grenadine.”

He picked up the bottle and tossed it over the opposite shoulder, and caught it with the same hand, only to switch hands, throw the bottle over the other shoulder and catch it on the back of his hand. He bumped it into the air, caught it by the neck, and added a splash of the syrup into the cocktail.

Atem put the bottle away, and capped the shaker. The ice clattered like a tiny applause as he shook it up, in addition to Yugi clapping furiously.

“That was amazing!” he gushed. “All of your tricks are so cool.”

“Oh, it's nothing,” he preened, not even pretending to look humble. “I only break out the fancy stuff for special occasions. Like welcoming a new customer.” He gestured to a stone-faced Kaiba.

He produced a cocktail glass from behind the counter and strained the liquor into the glass. “One Millionaire,” he announced, sliding the drink over. “Welcome to the Pharaoh's Throne.”

“From the Pharaoh himself,” Yugi added, fluttering his eyelashes.

He snorted, stepping away from Kaiba to Yugi, which wasn’t very far away, but he'd take what he could get. “If I had a dollar for every time I heard that joke—”

“Then maybe you'd be able to open a better bar,” Kaiba interrupted.

Atem narrowed his eyes. Kaiba hadn't touched the Millionaire, leaning back in the bar stool with his arms crossed. Even though his words were directed at Atem, he was looking at Yugi, brows raised as if to say  _Can you believe this guy_?

“If you don't like my bar,” Atem said, “you can get up and leave.”

Kaiba continued ignoring him completely. “Seriously, Yugi, what do you see in this guy? He runs a dive in the worst part of town that nobody's ever heard of, and he's probably not keeping himself together half as well as this dump.”

“ _Excuse_ me?”

Yugi slammed his arm down on the counter and rounded on Kaiba. “What the hell is your problem?” he demanded.

“ _I’m_ not the one who has a problem.”

“Don’t try that.” Yugi got down from his stool and folded his arms. “I left you, and I found someone new, so get over it. And by the way ‘this guy’ has a name. You have no right to walk back into my life and start insulting me, Atem, _or_ his bar.”

He didn't look phased in the slightest. “I'm just looking out for you, Yugi. I want to make sure you're heading in the right direction.” He made a pointed glance over the counter. “And not making a mistake by rebounding with _this_ show-off.”

Atem heard the slap before he saw it.

Yugi cracked his hand across Kaiba's face, leaving a stinging, red imprint. He held his cheek, face somewhere between furious and shocked, mouth hanging open like a fish out of water. In any other situation, Atem would have asked them both to leave, but he was somehow frozen to the spot like he was in a dream.

“Looking out for me, huh?” Yugi hissed. “Looking out for me like you were ‘looking out’ for Rebecca? Just admit you're jealous and go.”

“Jealous?” Kaiba said, incredulous. “Of _him_?”

“Yes, of _him_. Because the only reason you seem to be here tonight is to bother us. If you _actually_ have a reason for coming here tonight that _isn't_ trying to chase me down and convince yourself that I'd ever take you back, I'd love to hear it.” 

Kaiba's mouth continued to open and close like a fish, and Atem saw his opportunity to jump into the conversation before they could start ripping each other apart. “Hey, both of you.”

They both turned to him, Yugi fuming and Kaiba aloof. 

“Look, I'd rather not end tonight by making you both leave, but—” he fixed a pointed glance at Kaiba, then slid his gaze to Yugi “—if this continues I'm going to have to ask you to take it outside, or take it back to your respective homes.”

It was strange being so professional in a situation he was personally invested in, but his brain auto-piloted out of complete loss of function. He had _never_ seen Yugi so angry before, as if the night couldn't get any crazier. It was scary for _him_ , even though he knew he was safe from being smacked.

Yugi returned to his seat, tossing a venomous look at Kaiba. “I'm willing to let it go, as long _he_ minds his own business.”

Atem raised a brow at the other half of the guilty party. “Well?”

“Why are you looking at me?” Kaiba protested. “I'm the one who got slapped.” He jabbed a finger at the angry, red print.

He didn't bother to hide his contempt. “I have been bartending far too long to not recognize a bait-and-switch. Maybe you weren't trying to provoke Yugi to violence, but you were obviously pushing sensitive buttons. As much as I'd like to kick you out for bothering my _boyfriend_ —” he put as much emphasis as he could into the word, both to piss off Kaiba and to relish the feeling of saying it “—it's against policy for a bartender to take sides. But, I _can_ throw you out for harassing one of my customers. So you can either leave, or sit down and mind your own business. Which will it be?”

Kaiba scoffed, but sat down, miraculously. Atem didn't think that would work, at least not without another scathing comment. Though he would have preferred if Kaiba had left.

He returned his attention to Yugi, who was beaming his way for the second time that night, holding out one hand like an invitation. He took it with smile.

Okay, maybe it was good that Kaiba was staying a little longer. Because he could keep pretending that this was real. That realization took the edge off of Yugi's doe-eyed look, but he let himself enjoy it anyway.

“Don't think you're off the hook,” Atem said, only half scolding. “ _All_ those rules still apply. I can still kick you out.”

“I told you, I'm over it,” Yugi claimed, though the clenched teeth in his otherwise soft expression spoke volumes. 

“Good. Me too.” He picked up the nearest clean lowball and clinked their glasses together. The fire behind Yugi’s eyes flickered a little. “To being over it,” Atem toasted.

“To being over it.” Yugi picked up his glass and took a swig.

Atem pretended to drink from his, then glanced at Kaiba. _I'm only going to try this once_ , he promised himself. He held out the glass until it was a hair's breadth away from the rim of Kaiba's (still, untouched) drink.

“To being over it?” he offered.

“Please,” Kaiba replied, staring down his nose. “Unlike you, I don't need a consolation prize.”

Atem bit his tongue to prevent a torrent of colorful phrases before saying, “Suit yourself. Reminder that the front door opens.”

Yugi squeezed his hand. Atem looked back to see a look that was partially grateful and partially begging him to stop trying. He squeezed Yugi's hand in return, with a little smile and another shrug. His chest unfurled like a flower when he realized that their silent conversation had nothing to do with the “fake boyfriend” schtick. They could just... do that. He smiled a little more.

“What are you so happy about?” Yugi asked.

Atem traced the back of Yugi's hand with his thumb. “Nothing.”

“It's not nothing if you're _smiling_.” 

“Maybe you're thinking too much.”

“Maybe _you're_ not telling me.”

“It's nothing, _habibi_.”

He paused for a moment and processed the words that had come out of his mouth. _Did I just say that_? _I didn’t mean to say that out loud, please tell me I didn’t just—_

“You're not the only one who can say cheesy things in a different language,” Yugi said, sitting up a little straighter.

If it was possible for someone to pale and flush at the same time, Atem figured it out.

“And which language is that?” he asked, trying to act like he’d done that on purpose. “I can speak two and, unless you’re not telling me something, you only have the one.”

“Teach me, then.”

“Teach you?”

“Say it again, what you just said.”

_Oh no_. “ _Habibi_?”

Yugi screwed up his face in concentration. “Hab— say it one more time.”

Against the higher functions of his brain, he complied. “ _Habibi_.”

“Hab-ib-ee.”

He was not going to be able to handle this. “You're close. _Habibi_.”

“Hub? Hub-ee-bee?”

He had to stop this before Yugi asked what it meant. “We'll work on it.”

He shook his head vigorously. “No, I have it right now, I swear.”

“You definitely don't.”

“One more time? Please?”

_Come up with an excuse, come up with an excuse._ “Do you just want to hear me say it over and over?”

For the first time that night, Yugi flushed with something other than anger. He quickly tried to hide it by taking a very long drink from his glass, his eyes looking everywhere except at Atem. 

Atem hid his disbelief that his lame excuse actually worked with smugness. “Gotcha.”

“No you don’t.”

He saw Kaiba giving them a disgusted look out of the corner of his eye. He could roll with this. It was practically his job.

“ _I’m pretty sure I got you_ ,” Atem said, switching to Arabic completely. He was astonished when Yugi actually _squirmed_ where he sat, still refusing eye contact. “ _You can’t understand anything I’m saying_.”

He hid his face with the one hand that wasn’t occupied. “Stop it.”

Atem couldn’t tell if this was part of the act or not, but he was enjoying it either way. “ _I can say anything I want, and you dissolve?_ _This is way too much power to give me, Yugi_.”

Despite half his face being obscured, it did little to hide the fact that he was beet red. “Are you finished?”

Was this really happening? Was this _actually_ happening? “ _Not yet._ _Lovely weather this week, don’t you think_? _I can’t wait for it to really start warming up for spring._ ”

Yugi ripped his hand free from Atem’s and slapped both hands over his face to obscure it completely. “You’re killing me, _please_.”

“Okay, okay,” Atem finally relented, laughing in pure amazement. “I’ll stop. _Habibi._ ”

Yugi finally uncovered his face, bright red with a smile that was trying to be angry, and pointed accusingly. “You’re a monster.”

“Yeah that’s fair. Admit that I got you, though.”

He sighed in defeat and pulled his drink closer. “You got me.”

Unfortunately, Kaiba decided to chime in.

“He ‘got’ lucky when you decided to play at dating him,” he said. “Honestly, this act is weak.”

Yugi looked like he was afraid they’d been caught, but Atem? Atem _glowered_ at Kaiba.

In that moment, he decided that all bets were off.

“You know something?” he started, stalking over the two seats to look Kaiba directly in the face. “The night I met Yugi, he walked in, sat down at this counter,  and before he said a word, I could tell he was heartbroken.”

Kaiba crossed his arms, unbothered. “Oh, really?”

“You don't have to—” Yugi began.

Atem silenced him by continuing. “Yeah, really. Then he told me what happened to him – of his own volition, mind you – and I wondered ‘Why in the world would someone want to dim a light so beautifully bright like this one? Who would be so cruel, and try to dull a smile that could light up a room?’” He ignored the alarm bells reminding him that Yugi was five inches to his left. He ignored nerves bubbling in his chest. “Tonight, I met you, Kaiba. And now I've realized: I don't care.”

“You don't care?” Kaiba sneered. He thought it was an admission of defeat. Atem smirked.

“Yeah. I realized I don't care about why you did it. I don't care what was going through your mind, and I certainly don't care about your excuses. What I do care about is making Yugi happy, something that you _failed_ at. From that night on, I wanted to see Yugi happy. So, when he approached _me_ about dating _,_ I saw the opportunity to do just that. Of course, this was months after we'd met, and long after he was done getting over _you_. So, no, he isn't rebounding. I'm not your replacement. Because we've _both_ moved on from you. And now—” Atem strode out from behind the counter, flung open the front door, and held it open with one hand displaying the outside world “—it's your turn to move on from _us_. Goodbye.”

Kaiba stayed firmly put, though he looked more than a little ruffled. “I thought you said it was against policy for bartenders to take sides.”

Atem laughed deep in his chest. “Oh, this? This isn't me taking sides. This is me telling you to get the hell out of my bar before I drag you out. _Pl-ea-se_.” He emphasized the last word dramatically, pronouncing every syllable for a good second longer than he needed to.

Slowly, deliberately, Kaiba lifted himself out of his stool without looking at either one of the only two people left in the bar. He took his sweet time, step by step, inch by inch, walking to the exit. Atem smiled sweetly the whole time, holding the door like he was getting paid for it.

He kind of was. The vicious look on Kaiba's face as he passed the threshold was his equivalent of winning the lottery. He let the door fall shut and dusted off his hands. _Good riddance_.

“You know, he was right about one thing,” Atem mused, turning around with a flourish. “I _am_ kind of a show off.”

Yugi slid off his stool to join him at the door, watching out the window intently. A bright light passed over his face as a silver sports car pulled out of the parking lot, headlights blaring, and sped away. He slowly turned his head, with a smile so huge it split his face in half.

“We actually did it,” he said.

“We _actually_ did,” Atem agreed, letting the knowledge sink in that he couldn’t… That they had to…

He shook himself. It wasn’t the time for that. He forced a smile through his gloom.

“If he ever comes around again, I’ll just kick his ass,” he joked.

Yugi gasped and pressed a hand to his chest. For a minute, Atem thought he might actually be repulsed by the idea, but then he said, “Without _me_?”

They shared a laugh, and Atem walked backwards toward the bar. “I don’t think he ever touched that Millionaire, so you can have if you want. It’s paid for.”

Yugi shook his head. “No way, it’s all yours.” He slid back into his stool and lifted his glass. “How else will we toast the occasion?”

He plucked the cocktail glass from where Kaiba had left it, and clinked it against Yugi’s lowball. “To fucking with Seto Kaiba.”

Yugi laughed like it was the funniest joke he’d ever heard. “To fucking with Seto goddamn Kaiba.”

They drank, Atem in particular maybe drinking a bit deeper than he otherwise would have. He let the burn in his throat distract him from being upset. There wasn’t much left in the glass when he put it down.

“Thank you,” Yugi said, thumbing the ring around his neck.

“For what?”

“For helping me out, obviously." He combed back his bangs with his fingers. “I never expected him to show up, so I just _panicked_. And you got him to leave. So thank you.”

He tossed his hair. “My pleasure.”

Yugi snorted and shook his head. “You’re definitely a show off.”

“Guilty as charged.”

A silence fell between them, and Atem took that space as an invitation to finish off the rest of the Millionaire. He held the glass up to the light, turning it so it reflected against the rim.

“You know,” he said, “I could go for another one of these.”

 

 

Three more drinks and a hearty buzz later, Atem absolutely could _not_ stop laughing as Yugi, also laughing, retold the story of Kaiba getting slapped across the face. Even though it had just happened, it felt like they were reliving an old memory.

“ _Smack!”_ Yugi reenacted, slamming his hand on the counter next to his empty glass – one of many. “And then—then—”

“Did you see his _face_?” Atem asked, gasping for breath.

“Yes!” Yugi exclaimed, pointing excitedly in his direction. “Yes, that's what I was gonna say, his _face_ —”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Atem caught his breath, and tried to force the smile off his face. “He looked like this.” 

Through the haze in his mind he pulled off the most surprised and offended look he could muster. It must have been pretty convincing, because Yugi shrieked with contagious laughter until both of them were doubled over, giggling and gasping, then looking each other in the eye and starting the whole thing over again.

“Okay, okay,” Yugi said, trying to calm down, staring at the ceiling with his hands outstretched. “Shh. Okay. I'm—I'm good.”

Atem wiped his eyes, laughter finally subsiding. “Uh huh. Me too.”

They both sat on their stools, breathing, with a pair of the dumbest of grins plastered to their faces. Atem sat his chin in his hand casually. 

“I was _so_ scared,” he said, without prompting.

“Scared of what?” Yugi asked, leaning forward like he was listening to a ghost story. 

“Of saying that we were boyfriends.”

“Why's that scary?”

“I didn't know. Because…” Atem started, then trailed off as his mind blanked on the rest of the sentence. Why was he scared again? It _was_ a super easy thing to do. “I guess I just didn't know if _you_ would be cool with it. Y'know?”

Yugi nodded sagely. “Yeah. But you don't ever have to be, like, _scared_.”

“Really?”

“I mean, it was _fun_ , right?”

Atem considered this for a moment. “It _was_ fun.”

Yugi grabbed the hand that Atem was using to prop up his head, and he barely caught himself from slamming into the counter. Yugi didn't seem to notice this, and laced his fingers through the stolen hand.

“See?” he announced with a reassuring smile. “Nothing to be scared about.”

A deep flush had started to work its way up Atem's neck and had just found its way to his cheeks. The smile on his face softened, and he stared at their linked fingers dreamily. The buzz in his head deepened to a roar. “Uh-huh,” he said, unable to resist a contented sigh. 

Yugi's hand squeezed gently. Atem squeezed it back, a little harder. A return squeeze, almost imperceptibly stronger. He returned it with a _significantly_ stronger squeeze, and a tiny laugh. Yugi tightened his grip even stronger, with a delicate laugh of his own. 

“Fun,” Atem mumbled. 

“Mhmm,” Yugi agreed.

Atem looked up from their hands into Yugi's face. His cheeks were tinted pink, and his mouth hung slightly open in a smile, like he was about to say something. The dim light of the bar made his glazed eyes sparkle a deep violet. A lock of his blonde bangs hung right down the middle of his face. Atem reached up with his free hand to brush it away.

“Stay,” he commanded it.

Yugi smiled impishly, plucked the lock from his head, and moved it right back to where it was. “Oops,” he said.

He frowned dramatically, and brushed the hair away again. “Stay.”

He reached up for the hair again, then gasped. “I love this song!”

Atem relaxed his face and turned his head to the ceiling to listen. He could barely make out a pop song from the tinny speakers, something he heard every single day because the radio only played five songs. 

“ _This_ song?” he asked, wrinkling his nose. He heard two lines, something about “tonight” and “party,” then gave up trying to identify what it was called. 

“This song is _so_ good. Listen, listen.” 

He could hear the song, and was about to say it wasn't really all that good, when he was yanked off his stool and to his feet. He stumbled forward at the shift in velocity, right into Yugi, also standing, and suddenly holding both his hands. He righted himself, head spinning, as he stared right into an eager face. The room got exceedingly warm. He couldn't tell if it was the alcohol, being this close together, or both.

“Let's dance,” Yugi said. He started to swing their hands back and forth. 

“Together?” Atem asked, still unable to believe what was going on.

“Of course together! Who else am I going to dance with?”

“But I don't know how to—”

“Me neither. Let's just have fun.” He tried to wink, but it was more of an exaggerated blink.

Atem nodded with a tentative smile. “Okay.”

Their “dance,” wasn't much more than stepping from side to side, swinging their arms, and trying not to fall over, occasional giggles escaping when one would step on the other's toes or trip over their own feet. It was clumsy and stupid and not dancing at all. But Atem couldn't care less. 

When the song was reaching its high point, he let go of one of Yugi's hands, and held the connected pair up in the air. “Spin around,” he said.

“What?” Yugi asked, swaying by himself.

“Do a spin,” he repeated. “Like this.” 

He awkwardly turned in a circle, his feet messily stepping over each other, keeping their fingers connected. The world lurched when he came to a hard stop, a blurry trail following his eyes all the way back to Yugi's smiling face.

“Duh,” he said, as if it were the easiest thing in the world. “I can spin around.”

“Do it.” 

Yugi took a few stumbling steps around, his fingers almost slipping out of their lock, but Atem held them in place. He did a complete circle, struggling to stand all the while, coming to a stop with a pitch forward into his dance partner.

“Oops,” he said, his voice muffled. He pulled himself up and staggered back a few steps.

“No more spinning,” Atem decided. 

“No more spinning.”

They kept “dancing,” to the terrible pop song, swaying back and forth to the beat of the music. More often than not, they weren’t even close to being on beat, but neither of them cared, too caught up laughing and pretending to know the words.

Atem barely noticed the song fade out, but Yugi look up at the ceiling and pouted. 

“Boo,” he complained. “The song's over.”

Despite himself, he frowned. “That sucks.” 

A new song started playing, of a completely different cadence to the last. It had a methodical piano, a slower beat, smoother vocals. Yugi let go and sat back down at the counter, but Atem didn't budge. It wasn’t a song they could dance to, but that was no deterrent to the alcohol sloshing around in his brain.

“Let's keep dancing,” he said, holding out his arms.

“What?” Yugi asked. “But it's so slow.”

“We can dance slower.”

He nodded as if the thought never occurred to him. “I guess.”

“Come on, it'll be fun.” Atem opened and closed his hands impatiently.

Dragging himself out of the bar stool, Yugi righted himself and taking the offered hands again. 

“Wait,” he said, letting go again, and smiling bright. “Wait, we can do a _real_ slow dance.”

“What?”

Without explanation, Yugi grabbed Atem by the wrists, dragging him forward until they were nearly nose to nose, then placed the kidnapped arms on his own shoulders.

“And then I do this,” he said, and rested his own arms at Atem's waist.

Speechless. That was the word. Absolutely speechless.

Atem stared (up, just slightly) at Yugi in awe, not having any idea what else he was supposed to do. He could hardly breathe, much less think, or do anything else. 

“Then we both do this,” Yugi said, voice noticeably gentler. He started rocking side to side, guiding Atem with his hands. They weren't going anywhere, but it was enough to get his frozen dance partner to start moving around.

They weren't giggling this time, or pretending to sing, or trying any fancy moves. They were nearly silent, listening to the music, movements significantly more controlled. Atem let the heat in his face rush and stay and settle in like it belonged there, he let himself close his eyes and enjoy it. He let his fingers lock together behind Yugi's neck. He let himself breathe.

Something bopped him on the forehead – Yugi's forehead, he learned when he opened his eyes. Three drinks ago, he would have pulled away. Hell, three drinks ago he wouldn't have been doing this at all. But the heavy buzz still hung around him like an old friend, so he let it happen.

“Hey,” Yugi whispered, “remember when I said you were cool?”

“Yep,” Atem replied, also whispering. He didn't know why they were being quiet, but he played along.

“I _still_ think that,” he said, like it was a scandalous secret. “Actually, I think you're _even_ cooler now.”

“I think that about you, too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, since like forever.”

Yugi hummed, and fell silent again. But Atem didn't want to stop talking. He thought so many more things about Yugi. Why hadn't he ever said them before?

“I also think you're fun,” he continued. “And good at games, and a good friend, and you're funny, and really pretty, and—”

Yugi smiled, a little shy. “You think I'm pretty?” 

Atem snorted, pulling their heads apart to look Yugi in the face properly. “You're like. The prettiest person I've ever seen _ever_.”

“Ever?”

He plonked their heads back together. “ _Ever._ ”

“That's really good.”

“Good?”

“Because I think you're pretty, too.”

The song was already slow, but it slowed down with the rest of the world when those words met his ears. Atem could hardly understand language in his current drunken state – _any_ language  – but he heard that as clear as if he were completely sober.

“You do?” he breathed.

Yugi nodded, moving their joined heads together as he did so. “And I think you're really good at this. The bar thing. You're good at the bar.”

It was Atem's turn to smile. “Thank you.”

“Shh, not done yet. And you're fun to hang out with, and you always say neat stuff, and I like talking with you, I think about you a bunch…” He trailed off to silence.

“I think about you a lot, too.”

Yugi bit his lip. “Hey. I want to tell you a secret.”

“Okay.”

“Okay, here it goes.”

Yugi took a deep breath and kissed him.

It was the epitome of a drunken kiss – sloppy, wet, their teeth clacked together, lacking any skill beyond smothering each other – but Atem didn't care, his eyes already fluttered closed in bliss. It was the most perfect thing he'd ever felt. The best thing that had ever happened to him. He couldn't resist tangling his clumsy hands in Yugi's hair, and he felt the arms around his waist tug him closer. 

He wished he were sober so the sensations would be _clearer_ , but he tried to memorize them all anyway. Yugi felt soft as summer rain, he smelled like lavender soap, he tasted like liquor, he—

_Liquor._

The thought made him pause, stopping in his place even as Yugi kept going. He remembered something that he wasn't supposed to do. He remembered something he _promised_ himself he would never do, not to Yugi, not to anyone. It was... what _was_ it?

The hands at his waist became more insistent, tugging at the hem of his shirt, fingers grazing the small of his back, sending tiny electric shocks up his spine to curl around the base of his neck. Yugi made a little sound against his lips, close to a whine and—

And it set off about a dozen alarm bells that all warned: _STOP._

Atem forced himself to pull away, hands falling back around Yugi's shoulders, their lips separating with a tiny squelch. He wiped his mouth sheepishly. Yugi didn't seem to notice, smiling like he just won the lottery, eyes still hazy, drumming his fingers on Atem's spine. Each tap sent another tiny shiver racing up and down his vertebrae, and it took all the willpower he had to focus on what he wanted to say – _needed_ to say.

“We're drunk,” he stated.

“Yep,” Yugi agreed. 

“We should stop.”

That earned him a laugh. “Stop being _drunk_?”

“No, stop _this_.” He gestured to their entangled position as best he could, taking his arms from where they rested. “It's not... We're... I don't want to.”

Yugi's bright smile, his _beautiful_ smile, slipped from his face, replaced with betrayal. He drew back his arms. “You don't want to?”

“Yes! No?” Atem blurted, panicking but too drunk to know what he said wrong. “Yes, but no? I—I want to, but—”

“You're not making sense.”

He ran a frantic hand through his hair, but words wouldn't come to him. His tongue felt thick and sluggish. “We're drunk, and... That's not…” _I thought I was doing the right thing?_

He watched Yugi's face become angry, standing as tall and balanced as his impaired mind let him. “You're not making _sense_.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force away the cloudiness. “I know, I know, but it's not _good_ for us to do this.”

“ _What?”_

He opened his eyes in a panic. “Because we're drunk! Please, Yugi, I _do_ want this, but not now.” 

Yugi crossed his arms, stone faced. “Not _now_?”

The slow song had faded out minutes ago, but the follow up tune didn’t reach their ears.

“No,” Atem said, “not now. But later.”

That answer didn’t to do him any favors, because Yugi dragged his hands across his eyes and they came away wet. His stomach dropped to his feet. Every inch of his body went cold.

“Why?” Yugi sniffed.

Atem swallowed past a lump in his throat. “We’re drunk—”

“And? I’m still _me_.”

“But—”

“But _what_? Am I not _good_ enough?”

He shook his head as fast as he could. “What? No, that’s not—”

“I’m going.”

Yugi swiped at his eyes furiously and wobbled his way back to the counter. Atem watched, wide-eyed, as he stumbled past. He reached out for Yugi’s arm to try and pull him around.

“Please don’t—” was as much as he got out before his arm was smacked away.

Yugi didn’t even bother turning all the way around when he spoke. “I didn’t think you were _like_ him.”

Atem didn’t have anything to say to that. It hurt even worse to know exactly what that meant.

The world moved around him, as he stood frozen, unable to do more than watch helplessly as Yugi gathered his things and left him alone.

He could hear the music again.

He hated this song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooooo…just don’t worry about it! it’s fine! just like, don’t worry about it! 
> 
> flairbartending.tv saved my life while I was writing this chapter. if you want to look at Atem’s tricks in real time, I used lessons #18, #19, #21, #59, #79!


	9. Don't Ask, Don't Tell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it’s weird to say, but this is the second to last chapter. chapter 10 will be a short epilogue, and then… that’s it i guess? jesus this is weird, i’ve never finished a longfic before, and the outpour of support for this one has been astounding. thank you – all of you <3

Atem woke up on his couch to the sound of rapid knocking at the front door. 

He blinked at the bright light streaming through his windows, and groaned at the _massive_ headache pulsing through his temples. His skull was full of water, his back hurt, his tongue felt like a big, fuzzy caterpillar. What time was it? What the hell _happened_?

He saw his phone on the table and reached for it: dead. But, it looked like he hadn’t taken his watch off, do he checked that instead – it was barely eleven. That was one question answered. But another still remained.

The knocking got louder, and he heard someone familiar from the other side.

“Atem? Are you here?”

His blood turned to ice at the sound of Yugi's voice, as patchy memories of the previous night assaulted his already aching head. Kaiba, their act, they drank too much and—

_Oh yeah_ , he remembered. _That._

At least both of his questions were answered.

“Atem?”

Well, there was no avoiding it now. 

He stood up, swallowing a groan of pain and a bit of nausea, and called, “Just a minute,” in the general direction of the door. 

The knocking promptly stopped, and he stumbled over to the entrance. Right before he put his hand on the knob, however, he was faced with the realization that he was supposed to answer the door now. After he had just woken up. Wearing the clothes he had slept in, which was his uniform from the previous night. He probably looked and smelled awful. He felt awful, too. For a couple different reasons.

Swallowing his pride, he took a deep breath, and yanked open the door. _Let's get this over with._

Yugi stood meekly in the hallway, not looking much better than Atem felt. There were dark circles under his eyes, his hair was a mess, and there was a rumpled quality to his clothes that hinted at being picked up off the floor and thrown on out of necessity. He was hunched over in suck a way that almost made _him_ look like the short one. He waved a little. “Hi.”

“Hey.”

They stood in silence. Letting the lack of words settle in. There was a tangible wall of awkward forming between them, made up of all the things they were too afraid to bring up. 

“I just woke up,” Atem blurted, if only to say _something_. “Sorry if I, uh—”

“Don't worry about it,” Yugi interrupted. “Me too. I came over as soon as I could see straight. So…” he trailed off, clasping his hands behind his back.

It was then that Atem realized he was standing in the doorway. “Come in,” he said, a little frazzled, jumping back from the threshold. Yugi shuffled in wordlessly, shooting him a sad smile that made his heart twist.

He closed the door gently. If Yugi had a headache as bad as his was, he didn't need _any_ kind of unnecessary noise. He turned around to see his guest had already taken a seat cross-legged on the couch, staring at his hands curled up in his lap. 

“Do you… need anything?” Atem asked. This felt like the worst part of a one-night stand – one that they didn't even _have_. “Coffee? Water?”

Yugi shrugged. “Water's fine. Thank you.”

Atem took off for the kitchen, and spent the whole time finding painkillers and pouring two glasses of water – one for himself – wondering what, exactly, he was supposed to say in this situation. Apologize? For what? For the fake-boyfriend act? For the dancing? For turning him down? Was he supposed to confess how he felt, as if he didn't basically do that three times over the previous night? Was he just supposed to say nothing? The corner of Yugi's letter – still pinned up on the fridge – caught his eye. The small, bubbly handwriting he'd come to adore suddenly felt so far away.

He sighed, popping open the pill bottle and swallowing two of the things with sip of water. Guess there was only one way to find out what to do. He took both glasses into his hands, and whisked them out of the kitchen.

Yugi hadn't moved since Atem had left. The clunk of the cup on the coffee table made him jump, like he'd forgotten he wasn't alone.

“Thank you,” he mumbled. He took the glass, but didn't drink from it.

“No problem,” Atem replied. He shifted from foot to foot, not knowing if he should sit down next to Yugi on the couch, or if that would be too much, after... everything.

He decided to sit down on the couch, but not _directly_ next to Yugi. He put a polite distance between them – something saved for acquaintances, or someone he’d never met. He took a swig from his glass to keep himself from saying something stupid. Or anything at all, really.

“I know,” Yugi started, just barely glancing sideways, “that we have a lot to talk about. But first I want to apologize for what I said at the end of the night, I didn’t mean _any_ of it.”

“It’s alright—” Atem started.

“No, it’s not alright.” He sighed, frustrated. “It was childish and rude. I shouldn’t have taken out my insecurities on you, no matter how drunk I was.”

The smoke was still clearing from Yugi’s last comment of the night, but knowing it wasn’t personal made him feel a little better. “I forgive you.”

He blinked, bewildered. “Just like that?”

“Is that wrong?”

“No, I guess not.”

There was another stretch of silence. Atem normally would have been the one to break it, but Yugi had more to say.

“I also want to thank you,” he continued. “For not letting me continue… _that_. I wasn’t thinking right, and I wouldn’t have wanted it if I was—” He gestured to his head. 

“I understand,” Atem replied, and it was true. He'd experienced many a drunk customer “making a move,” and having to pry them off of himself or someone else. But this was different. “I wouldn't do that to you,” he added. 

“I know. Of course, I know.” He sounded like he was talking to himself. “ _And_ I want to apologize for surprising you. Before that.” 

“Surprising—? Oh.” The feeling of soft, wet lips came back to him, and he desperately tried to squash it down.

“I was a lot drunker than I thought.”

“It's okay. When you're that far gone, everything sounds like a good idea.”

“Right.” He smiled a little, before letting his face drop again.

When another silent spell threatened to settle, Atem spoke up. “I want to apologize, too. For getting handsy and personal when we were talking.” He blew out his cheeks. “And when we were talking to Kaiba too.” 

Well. There. He admitted it was personal. That had to count for something, right?

“Yeah,” Yugi said. “That.” 

He didn't continue, so Atem picked up the conversation instead.

“I want you to know,” he said, slowly, “that I don’t blame you for him showing up, or for anything he said.”

“He saw pictures of us online together,” Yugi muttered. “I guess.”

“And he _chose_ to show up. You're both adults, you can make your own choices. You're living your life. It's not your fault if someone wants to bother you about it.”

Yugi cracked another smile. “And bother he did.”

Atem smiled a little too, in spite of himself. “Yeah, but we chased him off. Problem solved.”

“ _That's_ what I wanted to talk about.” He finally took a sip from his glass.

_Here we go,_ Atem thought, bracing himself. He didn't dare look at Yugi, instead staring into the reflection of himself in the water. “I know I didn't ask, but we'd done it out of the blue before, so I figured you'd be okay with it. If it bothered you—”

“Bothered me?”

Yugi sounded so genuinely shocked, he had to look up to see. And sure enough, Yugi was staring at him, confused, surprised, almost offended. 

“So you _weren't_ bothered by it?” he confirmed. 

“Atem, listen,” Yugi said, with such conviction Atem found himself unable to look anywhere else, “I was the least bothered I've probably ever been in my _life.”_

“Oh. That's good.” He swallowed thickly. 

“I wanted to talk about what you said. Right before he left.” He shifted on the couch, scooting hardly a millimeter closer. “Apart from the stuff you made up about us being together. That wasn't _just_ for the act, was it?"

“I…” He trailed off, unable to speak past the lump in his throat, or do _anything_ that didn't involve staring at Yugi.

There was something in his eyes – blue, not purple. Something that seemed obvious and at the same time impossible to understand. It was earnest, but patient. Kind, but not overbearing. It pressed him forward, but encouraged him to take his time. It was every word in every language and none of them. It was _so much,_ but more importantly, it was Yugi. Yugi, who was so beautiful, inside and out, that he _ached._

And it's what pushed him over the edge.

“No,” he finally said. “It wasn't for the act at all. None of it was. I meant every word of it. And I have for a long time.” His nerves were screaming at him. “I'd been wanting to say it _to_ you instead of _about_ you, but I figured last night was close enough.” His hands were shaking around the glass in his hand. He set it on the coffee table before he could spill it.

Yugi put his own glass down, still watching him, still with his _eyes_ , those _goddamn eyes._ “You said you wanted to tell me something earlier last night.” He shifted closer again, but he was still so far away. “What did you want to say?”

“What did I—?” He tried to laugh, but it caught in his throat. “Yugi, do you _actually_ need me to spell it out for you?”

When he came closer again, he crossed half the cushion between them. “Yes. I do.” He was still getting closer. “You never got to say what you wanted to say. So tell me.” 

Yugi was sitting right next to him. Their legs brushed. Their hands were touching. They could close the distance between them on accident. 

Atem felt it was impossible to find air. He couldn't think, he couldn't move, but he wasn't scared like all the countless other times they'd been this close. It was a different kind of stillness – of awe, of reverence, knowing he was helpless and accepting it. He was hardly aware of himself, of anything except his blood roaring in his ears, and a single, repeating thought. 

“Tell me,” Yugi said – _begged_. He looked just as helpless, just as stuck. 

It came so easily then, so quick from Atem's brain to his mouth he wondered why he had so much trouble saying it before:

“I love you.”

He had hardly finished the sentence before he found he couldn't breathe for a _different_ reason. The reason in question was pressed against his lips, and a _lot better_ while sober.

The kiss was cautious this time, without the encouragement of being drunk to egg them on. It tasted  stale with alcohol-breath and sleep, yet at the same time it was sweet and warm and gentle and full of questions – _Is this okay? Am I doing the right thing?_ – but it was more than all of it. It was so _perfect_ Atem could have cried. He felt complete, like he’d put the final piece into the puzzle that was his life. Nothing else in the entire world existed outside of this moment – _their_ moment, on his living room couch, hungover, and neither of them awake for longer than thirty minutes.

Shy hands brushed his upper arms, and it was all the invitation he needed to bring his hands up to Yugi’s face and guide him closer, brushing his thumbs across his cheeks. The hands on his arms slipped over his shoulders, one ghosting up the back of his neck to tangle in his hair. He sighed into Yugi’s mouth, and it was returned with a content humming sound.

Eventually, they had to breathe. Atem pulled away first, hands slipping away, Yugi chasing his lips for a half second before he pulled back, reaching down to lace their fingers together. He was smiling, with stars in his eyes. Atem just stared with a smile of his own, reverting back to that reverent stillness. It almost didn't feel real.

_This better not be a dream_ , he thought. 

“It's not.”

He flinched at the unexpected response. “Did I say that out loud?”

Yugi giggled like a child and tugged him closer by the hands. Their foreheads bumped together, noses nearly touching. Neither of them had stopped smiling.

"You're adorable," Yugi murmured. 

Atem's smile turned sheepish and he looked down at their hands. A breathy laugh escaped his lips.

"Hey."

He looked back up. "Hey."

Yugi tilted his head, just slightly. "I want to kiss you again."

"Yes," he answered immediately, then _continued_ to run his mouth, as his brain collapsed. "I— I mean, it would— I'd like it if—"

Atem never finished any of the three sentences he was trying to say at once, because Yugi was already kissing him. Hard. Both-hands-on-his-face, teeth-clicking-together hard. He could feel his entire body catch on fire and melt down to the floor, and found he couldn't do anything but accept his fate – not that he was complaining. 

It had only been seconds when Yugi pulled away, but it could have been hours. His hands dropped to their laps again. "Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?" he asked. 

Atem wasn't sure if he could tell up from down, but somehow he managed to string together a coherent sentence. "If this is what I get for talking too much, I am never going to shut up."

Yugi tsk-ed and shook his head. "You're talking again."

"Like there's anything you can do about it."

Yugi's smile turned mischievous, and the glint of an accepted challenge lingered in his eyes. He lifted a single finger up to trace Atem's jaw. "I can think of a few things," he purred.

If Atem died (an increasingly likely scenario), right here, in this spot, he would be perfectly happy with it. "I don't believe you."

"Guess I'll have to prove it."

The finger stopped at his chin and tilted his head up and to the side, just slightly, just enough. Atem sucked in a shaky  breath when he felt lips against his throat. They travelled around, pressing light enough to make him want more and never quite getting there, climbing up to the side of his head.

"See?” Yugi whispered, breath hot against his ear. “It's already working."

It was so hard to think. And breathe. And anything. "Who's the talkative one now?"

"Still you. But I can fix that."

Yugi pulled back just long enough to admire his work, then leaned in again—

A shrill tone shocked them out of the mood, both jerking away in surprise. It sounded like a phone, but Atem knew his was dead so—

"Oh, _shit_ ," Yugi cursed, more angry than concerned. He pulled away, fishing his phone out of his front pocket.

"What's wrong?" Atem asked, definitely on the concerned side of the spectrum. 

"I forgot the museum wanted me in today," he groaned, tapping away a text message. "I'm supposed to help organize a new exhibit. And I'm going to be late in about—now."

He sat heavier on the couch, more than a little deflated. "Oh. S—"

Without looking, Yugi threw his index finger across his mouth to keep it closed. "If I hear a _single_ apology come out of your mouth, I'm going to give you something to actually be sorry about."

He pushed the finger away from his face. "I was going to say that it sucks that you have to work on your day off."

The hand was retracted. "It does suck. But I am getting paid for it." He put his phone away and stood up. "I need to get going." It sounded more like a regret than a goodbye.

Atem stood up with him. "Alright."

Neither of them moved. They just stood facing each other, both of them on the verge of speaking, but not brave enough to go first. Until—

"I really don't want to leave."

"I don't want you go."

They spoke at the same time. A few seconds of silence hung in their air before they both burst out laughing. 

"What time are you off work?" Atem asked, once he calmed down.

Yugi paused to think. "Six.”

"Great, I'll pick you up." 

He grinned ear to ear. "Where are we going?"

That was the one flaw in his perfect idea, but he couldn't care less. "I don't know. Anywhere." 

"I know an arcade with the most _disgustingly_ greasy food."

"It sounds perfect."

"I know!" Yugi's phone bleeped again and he frowned at his pocket, before shooting another blinding smile at Atem. "I really do have to get going."

"Right, of course. "

"I'll see you at six."

"See you then."

Yugi swept in for one last peck on the lips, before hurtling out the door with a call of, "Bye, I love you!"

Atem was left staring at the door, not knowing if he wanted to laugh, cry, scream, jump around, or kick a hole in the wall. He could have run a mile in that moment, so full of energy he was nearly bursting at the seams. 

He didn't do any of that. Instead, all he found he could do was he collapse back onto the couch, staring up at the ceiling.

"He said he loves me," he whispered, for no one but himself to hear.

 

 

It would be an understatement to say that Atem hadn’t been on a date in a while, much less the initiator of said date. He had no idea what he was going to do or say or if he was even supposed to have a plan in mind. He embarrassed himself, because he was older than thirty and fretting about what to _wear_ to a date at an _arcade_ for God’s sake.

At the same time, he also couldn’t remember the last time he had been so _excited_ about going out, on a date or otherwise. He was high-strung all day, his hangover miraculously cured through sheer willpower. He was counting down the minutes until six o’clock, and trying to find new and inventive ways to make time go faster. He retroactively thanked himself for keeping his Wednesday nights free, otherwise this would have been a disaster.

In the end, he took a shower twice before noon, forgot to eat until four, and spent forty minutes sifting through his closet before settling on a dark long-sleeved shirt he forget he ever had, a pair of dark jeans, and a red windbreaker. He wished he had something a little nicer, but halfway out the door he remembered the ridiculous amount of jewelry he wore in his twenties. That might help with the “nice” factor. He drummed his fingers on the threshold, debating the merits of digging it all out.

It was a _lot_ of jewelry, locked away in a box under his bed because he never had the heart to give it away, despite not wearing any of it in years. Most of it was gold and flashy, definitely not his style anymore, but he almost wished it still was. It reminded him of a time where he was simultaneously less and more confident than he currently was, a time he could look back and laugh at and miss at the same time. Maybe he _should_ bring it back out.

He felt along his ear. His piercings had closed up a long time ago, but the _cuffs_ didn’t need a piercing…

With a frustrated growl directed at nothing in particular, Atem retreated back to his room, and came out with two golden cuffs on each ear, a golden cuff on the wrist that didn’t hold his watch, a ring on the opposite hand, and a gold chain around his neck, already out the door before he could convince himself to take it all back off.

It didn’t stop him from fretting about it the whole drive, though. At every red light he was messing with the cuffs, spinning his ring around his finger, halfway to ripping them off and shoving them in the glove compartment, but never quite getting there. The jewelry was a reminder of someone who used to wear more than twice as much as this and go out in public – if that version of him was still kicking, then he’d survive the night intact.

The turn into the museum revealed itself and he exhaled slowly through his nose. It was going to be fine. His hands weren’t shaking. He was going to be _fine_.

Atem repeated this mantra under his breath several times, parking his car and rubbing his eyes. “I’m going to be fine,” he declared. “I’ll be _fine_.”

The walk from the parking lot to museum seemed particularly long that evening, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket. It wasn’t that cold – it hadn’t snowed for weeks – but it was chilly enough to give him the excuse to hide his hands from prying eyes. And his own.

He pulled open the door slipping his hand out of his pocket to check his watch. It was six on the dot.

“Atem?”

He tried not to jump when he heard his name called across the lobby by Ryou, a lanyard and ID around his neck, a pen sticking out of his hair, and a clipboard in one hand.

“Hey, Ryou,” he replied. _Should I ask? I should ask_. “Is Yugi around?”

He looked over his shoulder, toward the rest of the museum. “I think he’s running one final check of everything for the new exhibit. Why, do you need something?” He turned back and lifted the clipboard with a smile. “I was just about to bring these downstairs, but I can be back quick if it’s an emergency.”

Atem leaned against the wall and shook his head. “No, it’s nothing like that. I’m picking him up.”

“Oh, I see. Should I let him know you’re here then?”

“That would be awesome, thank you.”

Even though he never said wat he was picking up Yugi _for_ , there was a twinkle in Ryou’s eyes as he nodded and walked away, his smile too knowing to be ignorant of it all. Atem, however, had long ago accepted the obviousness of everything he did, and just let it slide. It’s not like he was keeping a secret anymore.

He waited patiently in the lobby, counting the number of tiles on the floor and drumming his fingers against his hips from where they hid in his jacket. He got to thirty-four when he realized he didn’t actually know the address of the arcade they were going to, or the _name_ of it. He scolded himself for not asking earlier, but he had been… distracted. Very distracted. And it wasn’t like he could have texted Yugi at work, anyway. He chewed on the inside of his cheek. Hopefully they wouldn’t get lost. Maybe he’d let Yugi drive.

“Hey there.”

Speaking of whom…

Atem looked up from his counting, saw Yugi’s smiling face from across the room, and any worries he might have had disintegrated.

“Hey yourself,” he said, with a smile of his own.

There was definitely something _bouncier_ about Yugi as he approached, as if his shoes were attached to springs. “Sorry about the wait, I had to go through _everything_ in the back a second time.”

“Don’t worry about it, I wasn’t waiting long.”

He held out one hand when they were close enough to touch, and Yugi took it, lacing their fingers together. Then he paused.

“Something wrong?” Atem asked.

Yugi lifted their linked hands together, and pointed to the snake-shaped ring on Atem’s middle finger. “That’s new. Wait—” He took a moment to assess the situation, smile growing by the second. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice that.”

Atem took out his other hand and wiggled his sleeve down to reveal the wrist cuff. “And this one.”

“I didn’t know you had all this.”

“I don’t really wear it anymore. Too much?”

He shook his head vigorously. “No way. I love it.”

Just like that: anxiety eliminated. “Thanks.”

“I kind of wish I went all out now.”

Atem pointed at Yugi’s collar, which he’d decided to wear again. “You’ve got that.”

“This? I wear this all the time.”

He blinked. “But I didn’t see you wear it until—”

“New Year’s?” He adjusted the collar with his free hand. “I was kind of waiting for a good reason to wear it around you because I didn’t want you to think I was weird or something.”

“It’s not weird, I like it.” He flicked his eyes away and back, lowering his voice “Probably a bit more than I should.”

Yugi replied with a kiss on the cheek, and pulled on his arm. “Come on, I’m excited.”

Atem opened his mouth, but someone else cut him off before he could even speak.

“Excited for what?” Isis asked.

He rested his head against the wall for a fraction of a second to prepare himself before pulling in front of Yugi with an arm around his waist. “Hello, Isis.”

She looked him up and down, with an increasingly mischievous smile. “Are you—”

“Wearing the jewelry?” he finished. “Yes.”

“What—”

“We’re going out.”

“On—”

“Yes, like a date. _Goodbye_.” He dragged Yugi around and muttered. “We should get out of here.”

He pushed the doors open and ushered them both away from Isis as fast as he could, into the parking lot with the sound of Yugi’s confused laughter in his ears.

“Would it really be that bad to stay and talk to her?” he asked, draping one arm around Atem’s shoulders.

As he hurried them down the steps, he gave Yugi a _look_. “Yes. Absolutely.”

“Alright, I guess I believe you.”

The sun was only just starting to lower, covering the sky with pinks, oranges, and golds. The light around them sharpened the colors deepened the shadows, like a dramatically colored oil painting. Atem found his eyes tracing the lines and curves of Yugi’s face, following the intense contrast where the shadows met the light.

And then he remembered he didn’t have to keep his thoughts to himself anymore.

“You’re beautiful,” he said.

Yugi ducked his head with a smile, which only emphasized the point. “We aren’t even out of the parking lot yet.”

“And?”

“I don’t know. I just didn’t expect it, I guess.”

They had reached the car now, and Atem reluctantly took his arm back to so they could sit in their respective seats. “You should be expecting it at all times, from me.”

“Are you expecting flattery to _get_ you somewhere?” It was a teasing question, but fell flat because Atem was being completely serious.

“Nope. I just want you to know it.”

“Too bad.”

“What’s too b—”

Yugi dragged him over by the front of his shirt and planted their lips together, and he positively melted into his seat. This was definitely something he was going to enjoy getting used to.

“Wait, wait,” Atem breathed, pulling away. “I don’t know where we’re going.”

Yugi let go. “Oh yeah. I forgot to tell you.” He shrugged. “I’ll just tell you where to go. I can’t believe I forgot about that.”

“We had a busy morning.”

“Could have been busier.”

It was in light of that comment, Yugi’s suggestive look, and the fact that they were still inches apart that made Atem clear his throat purposefully and sit back up in his seat. “You can’t do that while I’m driving,” he said.

“Why not?”

“I’ll forget where I’m going. And how to drive.”

Yugi laughed, Atem started the car, and things were already looking to be _way_ better than he expected them to be.

The drive took them through the center of Domino again, the fading sun accompanying them on their journey, reflecting off the buildings and onto the steadily darkening city streets. It was fairly uneventful in the best kind of way, their casual conversations interrupted only by Yugi pointing out directions. It was just the two of them and nothing else. It was a second Tuesday. Every _minute_ felt like its own little Tuesday, the best day of the week.

“Right there,” Yugi said, pointing out the windshield ahead of them, at a decent sized building with an elaborately decorated sign.

“’The Exalted Arcade,’” Atem read. “A little full of themselves, aren’t they?”

“Your bar is named after the pharaohs.”

He spared a glance to the passenger’s side, holding up a single finger. “And I never once claimed I wasn’t a hypocrite.”

Yugi laughed and then smacked Atem on the arm. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Make me laugh, all the time.”

A combination of all the best emotions possible paced around his chest and curled up like a sleeping cat. “Because you have the best sense of humor.”

“Aw, that’s—”

“ _And_ because I’m hilarious.”

He cowered against the window with a cheeky smile as Yugi shoved him while trying to stifle another laughing fit. “Will you _stop?_ ”

“I can’t help it, I’m just _too funny_.” He pulled into the arcade parking lot and turned the car off.

“At least now,” Yugi grumbled, unbuckling his seatbelt, “I can have the consolation of beating you a game or two.”

Atem snorted. “As if.”

Yugi raised his brows patronizingly. “Sweetheart, they didn’t call me the King of Games for nothing.”

He completely skipped over the pet name and got right to the challenge. “I’m afraid you’re going to be dethroned.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Neither of them could get out of the car and into the arcade fast enough, practically running up to the doors hand in hand, all the while debating who’s ass was going to get kicked harder. In fact, they argued all the way _inside_ the building, and Atem only noticed there was a counter at the front when Yugi yanked him back from just walking in.

“We have to pay first,” he explained.

“Pay first?” Atem repeated. “It’s an arcade, isn’t it?”

“All the games are set to free play. You pay by the hour and you can play as much as you want.”

His jaw dropped to the floor, and he looked around at the ridiculous amount of games set out before him. “This place is already the best.”

“And now you know why it’s called ‘Exalted.’”

Yugi dragged them up to the counter, and a young man with impressively styled dark hair waved. Atem couldn’t help but wonder just how much hair gel it took to make it all stick out like that, and grateful that his just sort of did it by itself.

“Hi, Ryuji,” Yugi said to the man behind the counter,

“How’s it going?” he said, then did a double take. “Whoa, since when are there two of you?”

 They looked at each other, then back up. They were used to it at this point.

“This is Atem,” Yugi said, nudging him. Atem waved. “And we’re going to be here a _while_.”

Ryuji nodded, ringing up whatever “a while” meant to him. “Finally found someone to challenge you?”

“He _thinks_ he can.”

Atem rolled his eyes. “I totally can.”

“Good luck, dude,” Ryuji said, shaking his head. “Yugi’s set the high score on nearly every game in here.”

Yugi preened, but Atem was decidedly unimpressed. “I’ll knock him down a peg, don’t you worry.”

Ryuji handed them a pair of colored paper wristbands, which they promptly applied. “Damn. I haven’t seen anyone this confident about beating him in a while.”

“He won’t be confident for long,” Yugi said. He pulled out his wallet and—hey!

“Absolutely not,” Atem insisted, digging for his own wallet and sliding his card across the counter in record time. Ryuji took it without a word, and Yugi stared at both of them in disbelief.

“I was gonna—” he started.

“No you weren’t,” Atem said, maybe a little too proud of himself when his card and a receipt were handed back.

“Have a good time,” Ryuji said, and waved them off.

The two of them walked off, hand in hand again, but Yugi’s glowering face was a stark contrast. “I would have paid for it.”

Atem shook his head. “Nope, I asked _you_ out. It’s on me.”

“I recommended the place!”

“You sure did.”

He opened his mouth to retort, but was interrupted by his stomach yowling like a dying animal. “I _might_ have worked through lunch,” he admitted instead.

Atem frowned. Lunch wasn’t too long after they met that morning. And Yugi _said_ he’d come straight over. Some unfortunate pieces were starting to slide together. “Have you eaten today?” he asked.

His eyes slid to the side. “Mmmaybe?”

“I’ll be taking that as a _no_ , then.”

”It’s not like I _wanted_ —” he was interrupted by his stomach again.

Atem halted in his tracks. “We’re not doing anything until you eat.”

Yugi stopped for only second before lacing their free hands together and swinging them the opposite direction. “Well food is this way, so we do have to _something_.”

“Fine.”

The food in question was a small counter carved out in the corner of the arcade, a few tables scattered around here and there, but most of the food was stuff to walk off with and eat while playing. It was genius. Sadly, Yugi was quicker on the draw when ordering, actually sticking out his arm to prevent Atem from having a fair shot at the counter. They were even, for the moment.

“Fries are not a meal,” Atem scolded as they walked away.

Yugi crunched happily from his gigantic basket of the things. “You said I had to eat, you never said it had to be _good_ for me.” He handed over a few.

“Alright, fine. You win this round.” He took the fries and popped them into his mouth.

Yugi looked at him like he was analyzing a science project. “Note to self: new boyfriend can be bribed with food.”

Atem whipped his head over, not sure he’d heard that correctly, but _really, really_ wanting to have heard it correctly. “Boyfriend?”

A shy smile grew on his lips. “If you want? If this is still too new I can—”

_I might cry_ , he thought. _I might actually start crying_.

“No, it’s okay,” he said, trying not to sound like he was losing it. “I just—I didn’t think you’d—It’s been—I’m going to shut up now.”

Yugi stifled his giggles with more fries, and gestured around the open arcade. “Which game would you like to lose at first?”

And Atem was immediately sane again, sweeping his gaze across the rows of games and flashing lights. There were a _lot_ of them, any number of which he could see himself being amazing at. But he wanted to keep this interesting.

“The one you think I’ll suck at the most,” he replied.

“Oh that’s _easy_.” Yugi was already dragging him over to a row of machines.

“I’m not sure if I should be offended by that.”

“Don’t worry, I suck at it too.”

Did Yugi just admit he was terrible at a game? Atem’s mind was already racing to find out what this mythical game could _possibly_ be, when they reached it.

It was a tall-ish white machine, with a double row of colored, semi-flat buttons, corresponding to the icons on the machine as the demo played on an upright screen. Small diamond icons ran along rails to their target buttons, sometimes swirls appearing instead of the regular ones.

“A rhythm game?” he said, a little confused.

Yugi glared at the machine with a personal kind of anger. “This game hates me. And I hate it back.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

The fry basket was shoved into his hands as Yugi approached the machine to demonstrate. “You push the buttons like any other rhythm game, but you _also_ have to do—” He put his hand on one of the buttons, and spun it around clockwise “— _this_.”

Atem looked between the physical buttons and the swirly icons on screen. “Sounds intense.”

“It’s the worst, and I need someone else to experience how terrible it is.” He took the basket of fries back and buried his anger in salted potatoes.

“Alright, if you insist.”

Atem approached the machine warily. He was pretty good at rhythm games – by no means a master, but he could hold his own – but wasn’t quite sure how the whole “spinning buttons” thing would hold up. He pressed the start button and hoped for the best.

“It’s so weird not having to put coins in it,” he muttered.

Yugi leaned on the machine so he could watch. “You get used to it.”

The game had an impressive amount of songs to choose from, most of them techno or from some show he’d never heard of. Atem selected one with a slower beat so he could get used to how the game worked.

After an overlong tutorial about how to push a button, the music finally started. It wasn’t too bad, actually. The spinning took a little getting used to, but it wasn’t as huge a shift as he’d though it would be. He was still _touching_ it, just in a slightly different way. By the end, he’d gotten the second highest grade.

He nodded at the screen. “Not bad for a first round.”

“Do something faster,” Yugi said. “That’s when you’ll _really_ see how awful it is.”

“Are you sure you’re not just bitter because you’re bad at it?”

“This game sucks.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Just pick a damn song.”

Atem shook his head fondly. “Okay, I’m going.”

He took Yugi’s request and picked a faster song for the second round, some EDM song with so much bass it almost hurt to listen to.

The speed had him on his toes (fingers?) for a little while, but it wasn’t impossible to get used to. He didn’t even need to glance between his hands and buttons, already there a half a second before the next note, to either spin or press. The game threw some curve balls when one button needed to be pressed and the other spun right next to each other, but those mistakes he quickly learned from.

He had started to sweat by the time the song was over, but his score—

“Did you just get the _highest grade_?” Yugi demanded.

Atem was just as surprised. “Apparently?”

They looked at each other with completely different emotions. On Atem’s side, excited about his accomplishment. On Yugi’s, betrayal.

“No,” he said. “No, you _cannot_ be good at this game.”

“I think I’m good at this game, Yugi.”

“I refuse to believe that.”

“I’ll pick a more difficult song, then.”

Atem shucked off his jacket, tied it around his waist, and rolled up his sleeves. Game on.

He scrolled through the songs until he found the most ridiculous techno song known to mankind, simultaneously firing a smug look at Yugi and praying for his life.

When the song began, he already had to concentrate like hell. The diamonds and swirls raced rapid-fire down the rails, he had to hold a button with one hand and swirl two others at the same time, he had to stretch his fingers as far as they could go to get three at once, he had to spin a button twice in a half a second. He was sweating more than a little bit, but didn’t dare stop to wipe his brow, pressing and spinning the buttons like his life depended on it. The song ended with him holding two notes at once, and he took that opportunity to lean on the machine and breathe heavily.

“Are you fucking serious,” Yugi said, almost whispering.

Atem looked up at the screen to check his score and laughed as best he could when he was out of breath.

He set the high score for the song.

“I’d hate to tell you this,” he said, pointing at the number, “but I’m good at this game.”

“You are unbelievable.”

“If by that you mean I’m unbelievably good at this game, then yes.”

Yugi put on hand on his hip, trying his best to look angry and failing. “I regret giving you fries now.”

Atem staggered back like he’d be shoved, hand pressed to his heart. “How will I ever _recover_?”

“Oh, stop.”

He stopped, pulling himself back up to the machine. “So, your turn right?”

Yugi jumped back from the machine as if tried to bite him. “No way. I’m going to find something you can lose at.”

They strayed from the rhythm game and started sat down at the first game Yugi recommended, and continued like that for more than an hour. They traded wins back and forth, and even if Atem didn’t beat the high score – taken on most of the machines by “KOG” – he got to put his own initials somewhere in the top five, at the very least. He did gloat extremely hard about the ones he _did_ get to replace, though.

Eventually, they tired themselves out of competing and started playing the co-op games, setting new records as a pair easily. Most of them involved guns – shooting aliens together, shooting enemy soldiers together, shooting dinosaurs together. There was even a zombie shooter with its own private booth, surrounded in a closed off box and shuttered with dark curtains on either side, hanging short enough to see the feet of the current players.

“That game looks terrible,” Yugi commented as they passed. The zombies on the walls of the box looked about as realistic as terrible arcade graphics could get. Which wasn’t much.

“Sure does,” Atem agreed.

“I bet the score is easy to beat, though.”

A single glance later, they were shoving aside the curtains of the empty booth and sitting down to play a terrible zombie shooting game.

The game had two guns, a red and a blue, that Atem and Yugi claimed respectively. They had to shoot a pair of zombie heads on screen to start the game, the reverberating sound of fake gunshots and splattering brains in the tiny booth way too loud for any reasonable person’s ears. They laughed it off.

The actual _game_ part of the game was mindless, just holding the trigger and shooting the zombies as they appeared in waves. Sometimes they’d try to be scary, but to no avail – not even the jumpscares got a single squeak out of either of them. It would have been boring if the damage system was fair. Unfortunately, it _was_ an arcade game, so they had to keep close tabs on their health and reload time. 

"I hate the stupid jumping ones," Yugi declared, firing at a zombie flying at the screen.

"Me too," Atem said, also firing away. "They're impossible to avoid unless you know they're coming."

"Powerup, powerup." The blue cursor wiggled over a floating box with a grenade on it.

He shot the box and a little grenade and a "+1" appeared near his health bar. "Thanks. Shit, left."

A horde of undead came pouring out of the screen, and were soon decimated in a blaze of virtual bullets and exaggerated firing noises. They all exploded into clouds blood and body parts, ending the fearsome growling.

The level faded out and a screen appeared that announced the next. 

"Three down," Yugi said, holding out his hand for a high-five.

Atem obliged him. "And however many to go."

"I think the high score is ten."

He scoffed. "We can do ten."

"Easy."

The game returned and they went back to firing on the zombies, calling out health packs and powerups, and if they were reloading. It was more effort than the game was worth, but beating a high score was serious business.

_Marik would love this_ , Atem thought absentmindedly. His youngest cousin had a track record with violent games, no matter the actual quality. Even in Cairo as a teenager, he was known to pick up the absolute worst possible games as long as there was something dying in it.

Actually, that reminded him of something.

"I have a question," he said, mowing down another wave of the undead.

Yugi nodded, not taking his eyes off the game. "What is it?"

"Do you actually like hearing me speak Arabic that much or were you just pretending last night?"

"Is now really the time for that?"

That wasn't an answer. Guess he’d have to use the scientific method.

Atem switched languages as casually as if he were talking to his cousins. " _The thought just occurred to me now, so I figured I'd ask_."

He didn't want to look away from the game completely, but a swift glance to the right told him Yugi had taken a long breath and redoubled his focus on shooting zombies.

" _It's a yes or no question,_ " he continued. " _I'm not sure why I'm still talking as if you can understand me, that's my fault_.”

Yugi had stopped providing callouts. His aim was getting sloppier, blue reticle going wide past the undead heads. Atem grinned wolfishly, tossing his grenade out to get a bunch of the missed targets at once.

" _You're missing them_. _You should aim better._ ”

"I am going to feed you to these zombies," Yugi promised. The booth was dark but Atem would have bet money on a blush.

_“I really can just say anything, huh? In that case, I'm going to start listing random things. Bookcase, apple tree, plastic, sailboat, thumbs, yogurt, banana, white, blue, pink_ —"

A hand appeared on the back of his neck and dragged him over to the side, where Yugi crushed their lips together desperately and he could do little more than return the favor. As they kissed over and over and over, the sounds of their characters dying in the background played in protest. Neither of them cared.

Yugi pulled away first, breathing like he'd just been underwater. "Shut your stupid, pretty mouth."

Atem shrugged. "Whatever you say…"

Yugi drilled holes into his skull, daring him to say another word.

He dared.

" _Habibi_."

Before Yugi could do something about his transgressions, a pair of dying screams tore them off each other. A bloody “GAME OVER” splattered across the screen, as their invisible characters got their limbs torn off and eaten.

“I’m blaming you for that,” Yugi said, sliding out of the booth.

Atem slid out from the other side, a smug smile glued to his face. “Guilty, Your Honor.”

“What does that even mean anyway?” he asked when they met on the outside of the booth, continuing to wander around the arcade until something interesting caught their eyes.

“What, _habibi_?”

“I’m assuming it’s some generic term of endearment.”

“Pretty much. It’s translated as bunch of different things, depending on the context.”

Yugi bumped his arm, a clear way of saying _Go on_.

“Well, when my parents called me _habibi_ , it meant ‘dear’ or some other thing your parents call you. People use it to address strangers sometimes, like calling everyone ‘sweetie’ or ‘honey.’ And when I say it to _you_ , it means ‘my love.’”

“Aw, I didn’t know you were a sap.”

“Yes, you did.”

He considered this. “You’re right, I did. But yesterday—” He cut himself off as a wide smile of realization spread across his face. “You called me that in front of Seto.”

“For the record, I didn’t say it on purpose.”

“How do you _accidentally_ call someone ‘my love’?”

Atem sighed. He was going to be hearing about this one for a while. “I was thinking it in my head, and I didn’t _mean_ to say it out loud, but it hopped out when…” He slowly closed his mouth. He would _never_ live that down.

Yugi jostled his arm like an excited toddler. “When what?”

He made a tiny frustrated sound and muttered, “When I looked at you.”

Yugi skipped ahead of him and walked backwards, taking both his hands. “Remember when I said you were adorable?”

How could he possibly forget? “Yes.”

“Keep remembering it.” He stopped walking to lean forward and plant a tiny kiss on his forehead. He looked behind him and excitedly started tugging them both along. “I can’t believe we missed this game.”

If Atem was a cartoon character, tiny hearts would have appeared to fly around his head. In the real world, he settled for looking more infatuated than he’d ever looked in his life, willing to go literally anywhere as long as Yugi was there too.

 

 

They bled the arcade dry of games that night, touching just about every single one in three hours’ time, which just so happened to be until close. It had been dark for a while by the time they walked out of Exalted, the city lit up like millions of stars.

“I’m _telling_ you, it’s because of the juggling,” Atem argued, but Yugi shook his head vehemently.

“Juggling does not make you good at rhythm games,” he said. “Juggling has _nothing_ to do with music.”

“I don’t have to know about music, I just need hand-eye coordination.”

“I have amazing hand-eye coordination!”

“But you can’t juggle.”

Yugi smacked him across the chest. “Just tell me the _actual_ reason you’re good at that game.”

“I told you: flair bartending.”

He made a disgusted noise. “I give up. You’re ridiculous.”

Atem unlocked the car as they approached. “And you’re stubborn.”

“I’ll take it.”

They both got situated in the car, and suddenly the mood mellowed out. Atem felt like a weighted blanket had been dropped over his head without warning, his excited heartbeat smoothing out to a something slower. More serious.

“Do you want to go back to the museum for your car?” he asked. “Or should I just take you home?”

Looking over at Yugi, fiddling with the puzzle ring around his neck, it was clear they both noticed something different. “Home is fine, I can get my car tomorrow. I have to feed Yami anyway.”

He put the car in reverse and pulled out of the parking spot. “You spoil him too much.”

“I can’t help it, he’s my baby.”

Atem sighed and shook his head. “I’m already being replaced.”

Yugi crossed his arms like a parent scolding a child. “You know just as well as anyone else that my cat takes priority over even my own life.”

“You’re cruel.”

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

Yugi’s place was unfortunately close to the arcade. If Atem had known the streets around the city better he would have taken a longer route, just to make the drive last longer. To make the _night_ last longer. But he pulled up in front of the complex all the same, not parking, because he knew if he parked he wouldn’t want to go home.

He looked to Yugi with a half-smile. “Your stop.”

Yugi gave him a half-smile back, then out the window. “Sure is.” He unbuckled his seatbelt, but didn’t move. “Walk me up?”

“If you want.”

“I do.”

Atem parked.

They walked as slowly as possible through the lobby, even taking the stairs up to drag out the goodbye to the last possible second. It was mostly silent, conversations traded in smiles and sidelong glances instead of words.

Sadly, the apartment door loomed in front of them at last, and Yugi spun his keyring on his finger.

"I had fun tonight," he said, leaning back against the door.

"Me too,” Atem said.

They returned to silence there, just standing in the hall and smiling at each other and not wanting the night to end. Even though it had been hours, it felt like something was being cut short.

"I'll see you Tuesday?" Atem asked.

"Maybe before Tuesday," Yugi replied. He pushed himself off the door and planted a chaste kiss on his cheek. "We'll talk?'

"Definitely," he blurted. "Yes."

Yugi stepped back and waved with his key. "Bye."

Atem waved a little too. "Bye."

Yugi unlocked his door, and Atem walked away, but he hadn't even gotten two steps down the hall when—

"You know," Yugi said, slipping his keys away, "I think your coat is still here from New Year's. You want to come inside and take it back?"

Atem turned back around and shrugged. "I don't really care, I've got coats."

"Right, but I'm sure you didn't mean to leave this one. Why don't you _come in_ and get it?"

Why was he being so insistent about this? "It's just a coat, you can keep it if you—"

Yugi threw up his hands. "Oh, for God's sake."

He dragged Atem back by the front of his windbreaker and kissed him feverishly, one arm around his waist and the other hand tangling in his hair, pushing them as close together as possible. Atem just wrapped his arms around the first thing he touched, and it was all he could do to keep up because he was hardly _conscious_. He could hardly come up with a single thought outside of _so good, so good, so good_. It was _so good_ , and he wanted more, he wanted—

Oh.

Perfectly on cue, Yugi slowly pulled away, the hand in Atem's hair coming to rest around his neck. The one around his waist didn't move.

"No offense," he said, in a breathy whisper, "but I don't care about the coat. And—" He backed them up until he was against the door again, and ran his hand down the front of the windbreaker "—I don't think you should be wearing this one either."

Atem had to take care to speak the correct language, his brain defaulting to Arabic and messing up the beginning of his sentence. " _I think_ —I think you're right."

Yugi bit his lip when he smiled. "I don't care what language you use to answer this next question, for the record."

His hand on the jacket slipped away, and grasped the door handle.

"Would you like to come inside?"

Atem actually wasn’t sure which language he spoke in when he said, “ _Please_.”

But the message seemed to get a cross just the same, because they were falling through the door, already kissing again, already shucking off the first articles of clothing they could reach, and…

Well.

I think I’ll just cut you off here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes i ended this story on a pun. i regret nothing
> 
> that arcade is based off a real arcade in my hometown! it’s amazing, i’ve spent so much money there. that rhythm game is also a real game i’ve played, except i am not even close to being good at it.


	10. Epilogue

**_Four months later…_ **

 

“Can you get the door, _habibi_?”

“I kind of have my hands full.”

“So do I. Here, just put the carrier down—”

“Are you _serious_? He’ll wake up.”

“It’s two seconds.”

“If he scratches my face off, I’m blaming you.”

The door was jostled open, finally, and Atem burst in carrying way too many boxes. He dropped them in the first space without boxes he could see, Yugi close behind with a bursting bags in one hand, and yowling cat carrier in the other, his arm stretching it as far away from his body as possible.

“He’s definitely awake now,” he said, putting his load on the floor and opening the carrier up. Yami raced out as fast and as loud as possible, screaming in retroactive protest.

“Let him run it off,” Atem said, stretching his back out. “He’ll be fine.”

As if on cue, Yami raced off, getting as far away from his former prison as he could, still meowing. It died off as he explored around his new home, curiously sniffing at the nooks and crannies for potential hiding places in the recently cat-friendly space that was Atem’s apartment.

“I hope we never have to use this thing again,” Yugi said, picking up the carrier and tossing it in the corner by the front door with their shoes.

Atem flopped down on the couch. “Admit it was easier than trying to wrangle him into the car alone.”

“You get exactly _one_ point for that.”

The move-in had gone smoother than expected, aside from Yami being the pettiest of petty cats, and most of that had to do with the fact that Yugi had agreed to sacrifice the shortness of his commute for the sake of the Pharaoh’s Throne – something that Atem was eternally grateful for. That, and not having to go apartment shopping.

“I’m tired,” Yugi sighed, flopping down on the couch as well as on top of Atem. He made himself comfortable, siting his head somewhere between the crook of his shoulder and his chest.

“Me too.” He hugged Yugi closer, stroking his hair.

“Today’s Tuesday right?”

“Yep.”

“Do you want to get dinner first?”

“Out?”

“I don’t really feel like staring at boxes while I eat, honey.”

Atem lazily swept the apartment with his eyes. The boxes _were_ kind of an eyesore. “We could unpack them.”

He laughed as if it were a joke. “You’re so funny. I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“False.”

“True.”

Yugi yawned and attempted to burrow closer. “I’m too tired for this.”

Atem scrunched his neck to look down at him. “So I win?”

“For now. When naptime is over, you’re back on thin ice.”

Atem’s phone vibrated, and he awkwardly lifted them both up to pull it out of his back pocket. A notification alerted him to a new text message. “The group wants to know how the move-in’s going.”

“Tell them we’re being productive as hell,” Yugi mumbled, eyes already closed.

He swiped open the message and made sure his volume was low enough so the shutter of his phone’s camera wouldn’t make a noise when he snapped a picture of them together, making an exaggerated disapproving face at Yugi’s half-sleeping one.

 

**Atem 2:55pm [Image Attachment]**

_yugi told me to say it’s going super well, but…_

 

**Anzu 2:55pm**

_Aww, you two are the cutest <3_

**Honda 2:55pm**

_smh sleeping on the job_

 

**Ryou 2:55pm**

_He really can just fall asleep anywhere, can’t he?_

 

**Atem 2:55pm**

_i have learned that the hard way_

 

**Anzu 2:55pm**

_Ha!_

 

**Jou 2:56pm**

_play a loud noise_

 

**Atem 2:56pm**

_no????_

 

**Jou 2:56pm**

_coward_

 

**Anzu 2:56pm**

_Why are you always so confrontational, Jou?_

 

**Jou 2:56pm**

_why are you all afraid of being ALIVE_

 

Atem snorted and slid his phone onto the coffee table. He’d seen this argument take place many times.

“What’d they say?” Yugi said, barely legible.

“They’re all very happy for us, _habibi._ ”

He smiled at the nickname and hummed through his nose. “Me too.”

“Are you actually going to sleep?”

“Mhmm.”

“Then you need to let me up. I have to open in an hour.”

“Mmm—No.”

“Please?”

“’S an hour away.”

“And you definitely won’t be awake.”

He didn’t deny the accusation, but he also didn’t sit up.

Atem sighed, accepting his fate. “Alright, but when I wake you up, you better not be mad at me.”

“’M never mad at you, baby.”

“Not for long anyway.”

A very lazy finger poked its way across his face until it found his lips, and shushed him. “Sh. Sleep time.”

Atem rolled his eyes and made himself comfortable. He’d be lying there for a while. “Goodnight, Yugi.”

“G’night.”

Second passed, and he was asleep. Like magic. Every single time, it was astounding.

Atem continued to run his fingers through Yugi’s hair, smiling down at the one thing he had that he never thought he’d ever get. It was crazy, if he was being honest with himself. The whole thing was. Explaining how they’d met to people was going to be a trip – explaining how they got together could be its own _book_. The thought amused him quite a bit for some reason. A romance novel about his life. How quaint.

_Who’s perspective would it be from?_ he wondered. _I know my half, but…_

“What was it like for you, _habibi_?” he whispered. He knew he wouldn’t get an answer, but it was still fun to ask. “How did _you_ feel this whole time?”

Atem made a mental note to ask about it later. It sure would make one hell of a story, both of their sides together. He shook his head and smiled.

He never thought one customer getting cut off would make his life this much crazier, and this much better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’M NOT CRYING, YOU’RE CRYING!!! SHUT UP!!!!
> 
> In all seriousness, from the bottom of my heart, thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who’s ever looked at this fic, given me kudos, commented, bookmarked – anything. You guys are my lifeblood, and more than I could ever ask for. It’s so weird to finish Cut Off on paper instead of in my head, because I’ve never been this motivated to finish any fic in my life. That is all you guys. 
> 
> That being said, there is potential for Cut Off to continue in a different way. In case my heavy-handed implications didn’t come across in those last few paragraphs, I’ve been toying with the idea of a companion piece for this fic, entirely from Yugi’s POV. It would be a little shorter word-count wise, and focus on most of the parts between chapters, or stuff that we don’t get to see in this story. This includes: the moment Yugi started Feeling Emotions, what the hell that phone call was about, more of The Gang, and the legendary Disney marathon. I’m not 100% on whether or not I’ll be posting it, so if you guys want it bad enough, I’ll be happy to crank out some more from this lovely setting!
> 
> But don’t worry if we don’t get more of this! I’m in no way finished with puzzleshipping, and Cut Off is only the first of like six ideas I have, one already in-progress as we speak, and the others still marinating on my flash drive and in my brain. I don’t know what it is about these two, but I’ve been very inspired lately :P
> 
> And once again: thank you. Thank you for reading, thank you for feeling, thank you for coming on this journey with me, short as it may have been. Hope to see you next time <3

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr as livingthedragonlife or on my writeblr as ink-flavored! any comments are appreciated! <3
> 
> check out the "hub" post on tumblr: https://bit.ly/2RJ0CdZ
> 
> check out the collaborative playlist (feel free to add songs!): https://spoti.fi/30SXQHj 
> 
> also, i am a white american, so if i do something wrong in this (or any) fic, please let me know!


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